#dream drop distance novel

[mythicalartistx]

The Dream Eater interacting with Riku is the best and cutest thing ever

[firestorm09890]

really good novel addition to this DDD scene

the theological implications of the phrase "what the devil"

Ienzo/Zexion's reputation as The Guy Who Knows Things

Lea's immediate instinct to tease him for it as soon as he speaks, followed by the realization that from Ienzo’s perspective Axel had JUST goaded someone into killing him, the fruitless hope that Ienzo would not remember that happened so that the consequences of Axel’s actions would not catch up to him after all this time, and then the decision to leave the room as soon as possible so Ienzo would not be able to bring it up

[twewynews]

The novel of Dream Drop Distance includes a few illustrations with the TWEWY characters made by artist Shiro Amano!

However, the novel itself is a literal novelization of the game, so there aren't any new scenes.

[thefreakandthehair]

February 14th, 1987

Eddie barely hears the quick knock, knock, knock on the front door of the trailer over his music: a Dio cassette cranked up to a soothing billion and five decibels. Funny enough, it’s a cassette that Steve had gifted him as part of a group Glad You Didn’t Die present when he left the hospital. Everyone from Corroded Coffin to Nancy Wheeler contributed something, but Steve made sure to get Dio. Eddie likes to think that maybe wearing his vest all that time rubbed off on Steve. 

He hardly registers it, but the knocking continues, a second round of three taps. Eddie sighs and does some quick mental calculations– Steve is on a date, Robin is with Nancy, Jonathan is with Argyle, and Lucas took Max to the movies. No one else has a license or is within walking distance, so unless one of the kids convinced Claudia Henderson to drop them off without warning, there’s only one logical explanation. 

“The Men in Black have finally come to throw me in the back of a van and drag me to their lab,” Eddie mutters to himself, dropping his pen onto the open journal and rolling off his bed. 

Knock, knock, knock, knock. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, Jesus Christ.” He calls out as he makes his way to the door. The two-bedroom trailer is larger than their old one, the hallway longer from his room in the back. 

A cold chill slips in from the cracks around the door before he even gets to the doorknob, but his blood runs warm when he yanks it open. 

Steve Harrington, in his cozy red sweater, dark jeans, and perfectly fluffy, coiffed hair is standing on his doorstep with one hand on his hip. That one hand is gripping a bouquet of roses that match his jumper and for a brief moment, Eddie wonders if his journal has been lifted from a fantasy novel. What he’d just put into words on the page is now standing in front of him— what does one say to their fantasy showing up at their doorstep?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Okay, maybe not that. But seriously, what in the name of Molly Ringwald is happening right now?

read the rest of been on fire, dreaming of you here on ao3!

[endlessskymaster]

Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance novel side covers Sora & Riku

[thedeviltohisangel]

For A Fortnight There We Were Idea- evelyn and her husband are freshly divorced and he’s jealous of callum, maybe he and callum have a little confrontation

For A Fortnight There We Were

"You know, when I pictured my first time out with another man after my divorce," Evelyn burped with a giggle as her second pint settled, "it was nothing like this." Her and Callum were cocooning themselves in the back booth of a pub, each of them with a baseball hat tugged low and a cigarette in their hands.

"And what were you picturing? An old billionaire on a yacht?"

"I had offers," she hummed as she gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer so he was standing between her legs where she sat on a stool.

"I'm sure you did," he mumbled. He leaned in for a kiss and Ev dodged to drop her forehead to his shoulder.

"Someone has their phone pointed at us." The last thing she wanted was photos and videos of her and Callum to be plastered all over social media.

"We don't have to hide anymore, Evvie. Let them watch me love on you." The way he had been dreaming about. Touching her and kissing her without worrying about optics or fielding phone calls from his publicist on how best to keep their distance the next few days until the attention died down. She kissed his neck in response and pulled back to look at him.

"There's no going back." Once they offered the world this glimpse of them, they would voraciously seek out more and more in an attempt to consume all of them. She was afraid it would ruin them. That it only worked because some parts of it were secret.

"I'm not interested in going back. Only my future with you."

"Someone has been reading too many novels with romance in them." Her elbows rested as his shoulders as his nose tipped against hers.

"Evelyn, I'm going to kiss you now." His hand cupped her cheek and she smiled as his lips pressed against hers. She held him close as he pecked her lips a few more times. "Let them say whatever they want to say. We are going to do whatever we want to do and not worry about it."

"That's hard for me." Every minute of every day of her life was planned for her. From waking up to going to bed, she lived and died by her calendar. Callum was asking her to exert some spontaneity. "You might need to kiss me a few more times to bring me around to the idea." His grin was wicked as he obliged.

----

It was dark enough for them to hold hands and walk home from the pub, Ev shocked there wasn't a line of photographers waiting outside after the video of them kissing had already made it's rounds on Twitter. "I want a million more nights just like this!" she squealed as he lifted their interlocked hands and she spun around. "Will you be my midnight snack tonight, Mr. Turner?" she asked. She looked up at him with love in her eyes but he was looking behind her in the direction of his townhouse.

"Get behind me." Ev caught a glimpse of the figure standing by the gate before Callum had her chest to his back, their interlocked hands going into the pocket of his jacket as they walked closer. "Can I help you, mate?"

"You can get your hands off my fucking wife." Evelyn's eyes almost fell out of her head she opened them so wide over his shoulder. Logan.

"I think you need to go." Neither of them wanted to have to call the police. It would bring too much attention.

"She's mine! You can't have her!" Logan stalked forward and Callum pushed Evelyn back and stepped forward to hold his hands to her ex's chest.

"Get in a fucking Uber and drive away. She's not your wife anymore and you don't fucking own her."

"You want that whore?" Logan asked as he pointed at her where she was shivering from the cold and the panic.

"What did you just call her?" Callum pushed him further away from her as he stalked forward like a predator who had found its pray.

"Both of you stop! Logan, go home. Callum, please let's go inside." She reached for his arm and wrapped her hands around it in an effort to pull him away from the increasingly dangerous situation.

"You know what? You can have her. She's so fucked in the head anyways." He had plans to be the bigger man and let it go and go inside the way Evelyn had requested. But then he heard her gasp at his words and felt her fingertips dig into the skin of his arm for solace and knew these were words she had heard come from his mouth before and that they were sending her right back to that dark and lonely place.

"He has two fucking seconds, Ev." He was warning her what was going to happen. Didn't want her to be surprised when he broke his jaw.

"Don't, please. Please, please, let's just go inside." His twitched as he weighed the desire to protect her through physical dominance and to comfort her in the way she asking him to. Callum settled for the latter. He kept his body between her and her ex, bracketing his arms around her as she punched in the code for the gate.

"I'm right behind you," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Let it go, Cal, please."

"I can't, Ev. Go inside and lock the door. I'll be right there." She looked back once over her should on the stairs to the door and her ex smiled the way he always did when he was toying with. It showed how much he enjoyed still being able to get under her skin.

"I'm sure you want to hit me. Let's get this over with, Turner." Callum shook his head.

"I respect her too much to do that. You've taken enough from her, Logan, did the first honorable thing in your miserable life and signed those papers. Let her fucking go because if I see you again...I swear to God I will welcome the consequences."

Evelyn watched from the window as the two men seemed to exchange threats with each other. As Callum stood and watched her ex-husband get into an Uber and drive out of their neighborhood. He stood there for a few more seconds and let out a deep breath and square his shoulders before turning to walk into the house.

Not for the first time was Evelyn nauseous over the baggage she was bringing into his life. Not for the first time she was scared that it was now one step too far for him and he would leave. Not for the first time did she want to scream out into the universe so it could swallow her pain and lock it away.

And not for the last time she was so utterly in love with Callum that she could finally think of the word forever.

[forthelostones]

i. through the darkness - a fanfiction

꧁ since the apocalypse you found yourself living a stagnant but fulfilling life. you lived in the cabin you watched your parents build many years ago. you never ended up in a qz or sought out refuge anywhere else. living just outside jackson, on a lakefront, away from the world. you watched them build a community around you, something someone so isolated could dream of. but what would it cost? on a lone day, while you're hunting for dinner you hear a dry voice cry for help. it's a familiar voice, one you've only heard of ruffled behind static. she's helpless in your trap, unconscious in the dirt, leaking with blood, her auburn hair stuck to her fighting face.

content: mention of loss, mention of two-parent household, parent/ sibling death (implied), grief, blood, aged!ellie, fluff/angst.

an: waaaaa let's see how long this'll last. first ff since i was 13? woaaaa. also thanks guys for all the follows, that’s means sm to me!!! also any requests? let me know.

wc: 2.2k

Your stomach spoke to you while finishing your glass of herbal tea. It warmed you, but it wouldn’t satisfy you until dinner, which you were putting off. You knew you'd need to go hunt since the change of seasons left you with such little protein. But you so desperately enjoyed the weather and the coolness that allowed you to sit by the fire, read your favorite books, and go thoughtless. The crinkling of the wood created a hazy picture inside your mind of when you would sit by the fire with your mom and read her childhood books. You look around and sit alone with a copy of a graphic novel with pages that have become dusty with time. 

You close up the book and swallow the last drops of tea as you slip on your house shoes to walk to the kitchen. The floorboards creak beneath you, echoing in your ears, reminding you how quiet this place has become. Your hands wrap around the ceramic sink as you lay the glass down and peer out to the lake. Your memory floods with flashes of Christmas, the house noisy with the clattering dishes from the same meal mom made every year. Meatloaf, fire-roasted chicken. mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, pumpkin pie, and iced lavender tea. A meal that filled your belly up so much that you could barely stand at the sink to wash dishes. But as you stood, you so desperately wanted to lay in your father's arms, on the couch, listening to the laughter of your mom and brother dancing to a record. But instead, you looked out the window, into the never-ending treeline, watching the snow fall heavily over the deck sloppily washing.

You sniffled as you fought the distance between your mind and the present. You weren’t in the business of crying, that ended a long time ago. But when you peered out that same window and watched the sun hallow into the lake slowly you felt as if you could.

Better go, you thought. 

You strapped on your boots, tossed your rifle over your shoulder, and headed towards the door. All your gear was already set up from the day previously when you decided you would just eat vegetable soup again for dinner. You groan as you step into the frosty air, colder than you thought, but you smile, knowing Spring is knocking, waiting to come in. The world around you had become so quiet, so you constantly hummed a tune your dad taught you to keep your mind from wandering. 

♪ Open the door, Richard… 

Open the door and let me in…♪ 

You hear his voice chime in on the next line…

♪ Open the door, Richard

Richard, why don't you open that door?♪

The whistling breeze came to a brief halt, amplifying your voice and your feet crunching on the recently defrosted grass. As you walk to your post, opposite the lake, you hear coughing. For a moment you think it’s in your head, a new bit your memory made up while singing the vaudeville tune. The gurgle of trapped liquid triggered your senses causing you to leap to the ground. 

“‘Elp—“ 

It wasn’t an infected, it was an actual human. Your body jerks a gasp out of your mouth causing you to muffle your excitement that faded quickly. You set up a conibear trap down that way to ward off the trespassers you thought you’d get. You stood to your feet and sprinted ferociously to the sight. The voice yelped again, softly, as they hear you crash towards them.

Lying in a shallow ditch was a girl with the thick of her calve stuck between your trap. How long has she been out here? Her face was dirtied with earth and her body twitched from the pain. She had dropped out of consciousness as you appeared. Luckily the trap was old and somewhat defective, so her blood flow wasn’t as intense as it could’ve been. You check the surrounding area cautiously to make sure no one is hidden along the shore or tree line. You went over to her, prying the trap away with any remaining strength you had, nicking yourself and freeing her leg. Her pierced veins dripped blood, so you unwrap your scarf and tie it around her flesh until you could get her into the cabin. You hoist her up over your shoulder and walk quickly from shore, up the grassy plain, and twisting the door handle open with a free hand.

Your heart raced at the human connection. 

“I gotcha,” you say hoarsely. 

You open the bathroom door and lie her in the bathtub, hand behind her frosted neck. She's practically frozen, you thought. You remove her backpack, shoes, and additional layers down to her warming garments and grab the med kit from your living room. Your hands quake as you attempt to remember what to do. Find the source, stop the source, stay clean baby, you hear your Mom say. You cut a strip up her pant leg to view the wound. She needed stitching, on both sides of her calve, bulbs of nervous sweat gathered on your forehead, and fell quickly into the tub. Your hands were damp with fresh blood, more than you’ve ever dealt with before even when you went hunting. You reached for the spout to the tub and rinsed your hands off before delving into the kit for a needle and thread, she was going to be okay. 

You stood at her bedside, sponging her face with warm water you boiled on the stove and a clean washcloth. Your heart rate hasn’t dropped since you found her. Almost ten years since a human was breathing around you and you couldn’t believe it, you wished it didn’t go this way, but part of you was glad she did. Questions rummaged through your curious mind about how she found you, why she was here, what if she came to kill you, what if there’s a cure and they were alerting others? The thoughts didn’t stop. She was still unconscious, lying in your bed, tucked warmly with your flannel pajamas, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. You had given her a nice cleaning, wiping away the days-old dirt built up on her skin, even picking it from under her nails. Slathering her dried lips with petroleum, combing her hair after washing it, and now cleaning off her cheeks. Her face pleased your eyes, and that short hair sparked fiery against the dullness of your bedroom, filled with trinkets of the past illuminated by a flickering candle. Your sponge slowly swiped over her tattoo, it looked a few years old, faded away with time, and stretched over her aching muscle. 

Cool, you thought in the midst of then constant brain chatter.  

You dragged the loveseat from the living room to where she peacefully slept. You had been monitoring her after drowning her in freshwater with crushed-up painkillers. You had been worried because her breathing began to stagger into choking snores. But you also thought it would be a good idea to stay by her side to explain why she was here. In the meantime, you warmed up leftover soup on the stove, making sure there was enough for her when she awakened. You pulled a blanket off your couch and dragged a cup of soup to your post. As you spooned in the warm broth with potatoes and carrots to your mouth you watched her chest rise and fall, even if her breathing became shallow, you watched to make sure. She began to sweat late in the night, so you placed a cool rag on her forehead and dulled the fire. Something about her made you want to know her.

The morning broke through the sheer curtains and the birds from last Spring arrived again. You looked over to your patient who cuddled a pillow to her chest, hair sticky, and sprawled all over her face. It actually makes you smile because for a moment, life feels familiar — she feels familiar. You have a stretch and head to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, oats with apple butter. You toss more fire starter into the pit to bring more warmth to the brisk morning. A loud groan, that flowers into a scream, comes from your bedroom and you are met with the fiery woman once again. Her eyes bulging out of her head as her arms flail with her head tossed back. She searches around your room for something, anything to protect herself, and for a moment you feel the threat of danger comes as she grips the glass of water you set out for her. 

“Stop!” You holler, but your voice cracks, it’s been a while since it’s been used like this. 

Her strong arms chuck the glass at your feet, which causes you to wince and jump onto the bed. You wrap your hand around her aching, freshly stitched calf. She spits out profanities, reaching for your face, but you just squeeze her throwing arm harder. 

“I’m help, I help you, I’m helping you!” You stutter, trying to get the phrasing right. 

But she doesn’t stop until tears form in the corner of her eyes. 

Her body stops shaking the second she makes eye contact with you. In that moment you felt like Eve, full of sin, being discovered by God's wandering eye, naked, with her pupils melding into yours. She sighs as you lift your hand. 

“It’s it’s me,” you suggest, repeatedly saying your name. 

Her forest eyes settle on you as you move quickly off of her, freeing her wrist. 

“Okay. Okay.” She replies. 

Her voice is dry with rasp laced between her moans of agony. 

“You got stuck in my trap, do you remember, I-I live here. This is my house.” You explain anxiously. 

Which feels weird to say out loud, it’s just yours now.

She remains silent. 

“Your leg got caught in a trap, do you remember?” You enunciated slowly. 

“I can understand you.” 

You twitch at her unpleasant reply.

“Can you? Look, I’m sorry you got stuck. I’ll get you more meds.” 

“No, no,” she winches. “It’s fine I have to go, my people are probably worried, how many days has it been?” 

You shrug your shoulders, which wasn’t sufficient enough for her, and she spits a nasty what at you. “I don’t know and what do you mean people? Is there someone coming here, are you…” 

You couldn’t even finish your sentence at the possibility of this girl attracting people to you. 

“No, no one knows I'm here exactly. I wouldn't willingly walk into a trap.” 

You keep your post near the door, away from the broken glass as you observe her attempt to sit up. She looks around the room and you feel a wave of embarrassment. Posters from your youth are plastered on the walls, crooked and dusty. 

“You won’t be able to make it far with that leg.” You distract her. 

She pulls the sheet away from her now bloody gauze. The sight makes you jump into action and elevate it. You thought your stitches would hold, but they didn’t. The glass crunched under you as you leaped to the loveseat where you moved the kit for the night. You frantically removed the swatch of gauze and unraveled it in your hands. 

“Give it.” She demands. 

But you’re not listening to her words, you unravel the fabric to see your stitches in place, just her movement made her bleed a little more. 

“Give it,” she reached for your hands.

“Let me do this!” You scream, shutting her up. 

She sits as quiet as she can, sucking her teeth, as you change her bandages. You look up to her and she looks away, avoiding contact with your eyes. You silently walk to wash your hands and grab the broom. 

The room falls quiet other than the hay sticks scraping the wood. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Her voice breaks through the silence and you just freeze, squatting on the ground, over the glass, out of her view. Once the glass is in the metal dustpan you walk it to the kitchen to dispose of it. 

“It’s okay. I would’ve reacted the same way.” You sigh, propping yourself back in your chair. 

“You alone?” 

“I am, have been for the last ten.” 

“Oh shit.” 

Her reaction pulled at a nerve you didn't think you had. 

“Ten years,” she adds. “By yourself? What…” 

You just nod, thinking of how your mom would’ve handled this situation. Brought breakfast to bed, made a natural creme for her wounds, and played soft music to awaken her. She wouldn’t have attacked Mom. 

“I’ll get started on breakfast.” 

You watched her devour a bowl of warm oats. The spoon entered her mouth swiftly, clattering against her front teeth and scraping as she pulled it away. You added milk into her oats to be more filling, lots of cinnamon, and apple butter to hide the stale taste. Her tongue even rode the ridges of the bowl where the thick, sweet glue dried and hardened. Her breathing was sporadic, almost like she would die if she didn’t devour the food immediately. You were still on your fifth spoon, almost halfway through. You deducted from her hurriedness that she was outside for at least three days. She sat patiently against the headboard and waited for you to finish. You had forgotten how to speak to someone. The only time you spoke these days was when you read to yourself, acting out the scenes and trying character voices. As you try to speak to her your voice caught in the back of your throat. But you could ask the one question humans asked each other upon first meeting. 

“What’s your name… by the way? The by the way you added hurriedly as you remembered from the movies you watch that they say that. 

“Ellie.” She replied. 

“Ellie.” You repeat. 

You smirked as you took another spoonful, hiding your mouth, you liked the way her name sat at the tip of your tongue. Instead of worrying, you just thought Ellie.

[qiutls]

TNGDH 002

Cashew nut.

After transmigrating, my name became cashew nut.

Who the hell thought of this name?

Of all the various words that exist, why was I named cashew nut?

How is this any different from naming humans, kimchi stew, fried rice, omelet, seaweed soup, steak or curry….

…Forget it. Since I became a hamster, forget about my human rights, just give them to the dogs. I lived hard like a cactus in the wasteland, forget about getting money and earning fame from the game I developed, as a hamster I can’t even earn wealth. The feeling of unfairness that I had forgotten suddenly returned. That’s right… There’s a saying, even if you roll in a pile of dog poop, you still win. So let’s say it’s a good thing that I survived and transmigrated. Even if it’s a novel that I read half-asleep and dropped in the middle, it’s fine. The saying means no matter how low life goes, it’s much better to live than to die.

But why?! Of all the characters in the novel! Why did I have to be a hamster! I became a damn hamster!

[ Synchronization is complete! ]

Right. You, system. Speak! Let me hear your explanation on why I became a hamster out of all the characters.

[ That was the only vacancy! ~(˘▾˘~) ]

Are you kidding me?

As I gritted my teeth, Kyle carefully dropped me into the new house.

"Cashew Nut? Why do you have no energy? Do you want to rest?"

Yeah. There's a lot of things to think about now, so please don’t push me to go crazy and let me go.

I kicked Kyle in the palm with my little foot. I need to talk to that damn system, get lost!

He tilted his head and looked at me with a serious look, and put me down carefully in the new house he had prepared in advance.

"Even though it’s a bit lacking, I've made a house for you. Rest here and feel better."

Kyle smiled. It was a smile that felt very affectionate, which did not suit his face which exuded coldness.

W-what's wrong with you? Stop smiling! It doesn't suit you. Let's just live as we look.

I grumbled at him and then started looking around. The hamster house that he said he had prepared for me in advance, just by looking at it..

It's too much… Really too much for a small hamster…

The small house which had three floors was higher than the table.

The frame was made out of firm wood and the top part was arched. The center of the house was even decorated with colorful red jewels.

If you look carefully inside, it’s decorated at every corner, there are cushions that look soft, feed bowls that are shiny enough to be mistaken for ornaments from a distance, some sawdust and all kinds of soft chew toys, slides, and sieve wheels…….

It's luxurious. I've never seen such an elaborate hamster house in my life. In addition, the decorations engraved on each frame were shimmering to the point that it felt burdensome.

Did you engrave gold in the hamster's house as well?

In the past whenever I went home from work, only a narrow studio greeted me as I opened the door. There was only one window in that apartment and now I’m able to live in a house that’s 3 stories tall, by hamster standards, of course.

[ The Grand Duke is the third richest aristocrat in the empire. ]

It seems so. Raising a hamster and building a house like this, he either is rich as hell or crazy about hamsters... I think he’s both rich and crazy as hell.

"In any case, It’s better for you to rest. I will come by tomorrow."

I sighed deeply. I didn't nod or look at him, since a hamster who understands people's words is too suspicious. Killing is a no-go!

In this big house, I snuck to a corner and curled up to sleep. Go, leave! Let me sleep.

"Cashew Nut."

―…….

"Have a good dream."

Good dreams my ass! This situation is a nightmare for me. *

Peace finally came after the damn hamster lover returned to his bedroom.

Now, let's have a serious talk.

Hey, come out.

[ 〣(ºΔº)〣 ]

Right now, am I inside "The Heart of Winter"?

[ Yes, that's right! (*>▽<)ｼ ]

And that's the Duke of Blake, who dies at the middle of the novel.

[ Kyle Jane Minehardt. Approximately one month before the estimated time of death. ]

So I transmigrated… But the heroine....

[ This is Serena. ]

Serena's name and face popped up in the system window. It was a woman with soft brown hair and green eyes. She looked about my age, but her clothes were quite dirty. Come to think of it, Serena in the original story said that after transmigrating, she escaped the slum with her intelligence and life skills.

Come to think of it, Serena didn’t even have a name until she became empress. Serena, it’s a name passed down to every empress from generation to generation. Right now, the heroine is a woman with no name.

Hang on. But I transmigrated as well, right? Can two people transmigrate into the same novel?

[ Serena didn't transmigrate. ]

[ The plot has changed. ]

[ Miracle value 1% ]

I sat on a rocking chair and looked at the system window seriously. I couldn't cross my short legs, so I could only rub my chin with my small hands.

I've been thinking about this for a while, what the hell is "miracle value"?

[ You're destined to die. ]

The sentence popped up on a blue interface. It shone chillingly blue with a sad emoticon, tearing up next to it.

… Destined to die.

It came to my mind. The pale light of the headlight of the car that hit me, the sound of friction made by the wheels scratching the ground, my body floating into the air...….

[ But before you died, I intervened right away! ]

The system spoke, bringing me out of the daze.

[ Your original body is in a coma right now. If you don't earn enough miracle value, you can't avoid the upcoming death. Collect information and find the best data to survive. Once you set a goal, you will be sent a customized quest. ]

So you’re saying…

[ Raise your miracle value and I'll save you from death! ]

You’ll save me? Why? How? Are you a god?

[ Once you collect enough miracle value, it’s can be used to create your own miracle! ]

This system... Looking at it this way. In order to raise the miracle value, I need to create miracles, but I’m just a hamster! With this small body, what tricks am I supposed to do? This damn system! You’re just making me work for you? Do you have any conscience?

[ อิ_อี; ]

After living hard to make money, now I have to live hard to make miracles! Am I Moses? Huh? Do you want me to split the sea for you?

But my settlement money. My bright future. My old life, and my human rights… That’s right I don't want to die of old age as a hamster.

I rolled up my little fist. There was no other option, I’m already living as a hamster, how hard can anything else be.

[ Do you want to set a goal? ]

Miracles and goals.

So, the point of the system was to change the fate of the world in <The Heart of Winter>, gather its power, and change my own fate. Instead of Serena, I was the one who transmigrated to a hamster and the miracle value went up. Wouldn't it rise again if something that should happen in the novel was prevented?

The problem is I only finished half of the novel. As soon as the character who I sympathized with the most died, I dropped it! So, I don't know the end of this story. How can I change the fate when I don’t know who wins and loses in the end.… Hold on.

Kyle! Yeah, Kyle Jane Minehardt. The man is supposed to die in a month. What if we save Kyle? There is no greater miracle than reversing death.

Yeah. Like it or not, anyway Kyle became my master, and I didn't want him to die miserably when I was a reader. The reason why I dropped the novel, a man who was worried about his lover’s safety died at the hands of the woman he loved the most.

Alright, why don't I save Kyle? This should also be considered a miracle.

[ Goal set complete: Save Kyle Jane Minehardt. ]

[ Choosing a quest…….]

I felt strange. If I save him, can I really come back to life? I wanted to ask one more time if this was possible, but it was meaningless I had already become a hamster, what could be more absurd than this. That’s right, even though there’s still a long way to go, let's both survive!

Please give me a quest that fits the current difficulty, Mr. System. I can’t do anything in this body right now except increase the companionship value with the Grand Duke. At best I’m sure I’ll be able to improve his satisfaction levels within 5 years, even though it would cost me my body. He meant because Kyle is obsessed with hamsters, he just has to act cute and be pampered and petted until his body is sore lmao.

After a few minutes of silence, the system held out its first quest.

[ Let's become a humane hamster! (ง˙∇˙)ว ]

As I clicked the quest with my small hand in the air, the following sentences appeared.

[ Let's become a warm pet hamster! ]

[ Reward: Small miracle value, a chance to get back some human characteristics. ]

Why is it a miracle to be a humane hamster? System, was the hamster from the original novel a bad guy?

[ ´•̥︿•̥`)⁾⁾ ]

Are you serious? Ah what a crazy drama.

[ Kyle looked down at a finger that was bleeding. It was still a young demon, but surprisingly it was able to survive the barren north. It was natural that it could not be easily tamed. A faint disappointment came to his cold, firm face. ]

Sentences believed to be the contents of the original work came to mind neatly.

……Was there really such a thing?

More than that, were you originally going to raise a demonic beast? Indeed, the North is barren and you might feel lonely, so you must’ve wanted a companion. Even if the demonic beast goes rampant, Kyle is strong enough to kill it. There was no telling, it could have been a cute human-friendly beast and there would be no harm in raising it. It's not that strange to hope for companionship from a hamster.

[ "Then why didn't you just leave it there?"

Kyle replied to the driver's words.

"Then do you want it to just die as it is?" ]

Kyle was the first one to reach out to me who was going to die…… Yes, well, I'll let you off the hook. We're all trying to make ends meet. As long as you're not holding me upside down, I don't have to bite you either.

Above all, I am a human being, not a hamster. I don't do anything barbaric like biting humans.

[ (ʃƪ˘³˘)(´ε｀ʃƪ) ? ]

No, but I do hope Kyle can refrain from kissing, I thought as I lay down, remembering Kyle’s warm smile earlier. Do you like animals that much? It really doesn’t suit you. novel ⠀✿⠀ next

[femininenachos]

Vacation au? Do tell 👀

They arrive via ferry from the mainland, then by rental car.

“We would’ve got here a lot sooner if Grandma Wells ever dared to go above 20 mph.”

“Excuse me for not wanting us to plummet to our deaths on a blind turn, Octavia. Those roads are treacherous.”

“The speed limit was 40. 40! A senior citizen could go faster. In fact, an old lady on a Vespa overtook us back there.”

“That is such bullshit.”

Clarke drops her luggage and cuts across the argument. “Guys, enough! Come see the view.”

She throws open the patio doors to reveal an infinity pool with the most spectacular backdrop. Sparkling azure waters, rippling in the early evening haze, dramatic red-brown cliffs in the distance descending sharply into the sea. The picture postcard perfect village of Polis sprouts out of the rugged mountainside, whitewashed cuboid houses with painted blue doors, window frames and shutters, clustered tightly together and cascading down the steep slope.  

It takes her breath away.

“Oh, wow.” Wells peels off his shades and stands alongside Clarke in silent awe for a minute, transported by the sheer beauty of their surroundings. “Okay, I could get used to looking at that every day.”

“Right?” Clarke agrees with a wistful sigh. “The Airbnb photos didn’t do it justice.”

“Bell’s going to be so fucking jealous when he sees this on my Stories,” Octavia says, whipping out her phone.

To one side there’s a secluded courtyard, hemmed in by purple oleanders, the fragrant air thick with the scent of bougainvillea in bloom that climbs the walls.

It’s a slice of paradise; a dream come true.

Their haven for the next two weeks, and Clarke already feels the stress that followed her across the Atlantic melting away.

She fully intends to make use of that hot tub, preferably with a trashy airport novel in one hand and a fruity alcoholic concoction in the other. Just switch off, relax, and unwind. Mentally, she’s already changed into her swimsuit when Octavia pushes in between them and drapes her arms around their shoulders.

“So… what are our plans for this evening?”

“A glass of wine and some nibbles and an early night.”

That earns Clarke an appalled look from both her friends.

“I just came off a sixteen-hour shift. Who else here scrubbed in for three separate surgeries yesterday then hopped on a plane? I’m exhausted.”

“Fair,” Wells shrugs.

Octavia isn’t so sympathetic.

A frown sits on her face. “You can’t be a shut-in on our first night, Clarke.” Her eyes turn pleading. “Look, we’ll just have a nice, low-key dinner at the taverna. Maybe hit a bar or two after.”

Clarke groans.

A tug on her wrist. “Come on, we’re on vacation. Live a little. Whatever happened to party monster Clarke Griffin?”

“Uh, residency and 200k of student loan debt.”

She looks to Wells for backup, but he remains studiously blank. Some ally he is, she thinks with an inward tut. Meanwhile, Octavia just pins her with one of those formidable stares that always fills Clarke with a vague sense of inadequacy. 

She crumbles after a beat.

Heaves an exasperated sigh. 

“Fine. But no shots.”

~*~

Of course, the first thing Octavia does when they’re seated on the outside terrace is order a round of fayaflou. Distilled locally, it might as well be 100% proof pure ethanol by the way it burns down Clarke’s throat and starts an inferno in her chest. Even Wells chokes a little, but Octavia just acts like she guzzled down spring water fresh from a mountain stream.

“Another?” She asks, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Fuck, no,” Clarke croaks out through a coughing fit. She holds up a palm in surrender, the other flat against her sternum as if that could somehow mitigate the effects.

A scoff from Octavia. “Lightweight.”

“I’d just like to return home with my liver intact.”

“Same,” Wells says, his features contorted into a pained grimace. “I didn’t agree to this trip to get blackout drunk. Polis is steeped in culture and history. I mean, did you see those incredible ancient ruins on the drive here?”

Octavia rolls her eyes so hard the retinas nearly detach.

But after a moment’s reflection, she concedes. “Actually, you have a point. Gotta pace ourselves. The night is young and I’ve got my eye on that hot piece over there.”

All eyes follow her nod to the bar, where an impossibly chiselled, handsome guy is making cocktails. Tall. Tattooed. Muscles bulging out of his tight black shirt as he juggles two bottles at once with impressive showmanship. 

They all have to scrape their jaws off the floor. 

He might be the most beautiful man Clarke has ever seen, not that she would dare interfere when Octavia has her sights set on someone. But then a waitress glides up to him, passing off an order with a short, melodious laugh that reaches Clarke’s ears and when the woman turns around, Clarke’s mouth drops again.

Because she is gorgeous.

Chestnut brown hair pinned up in a twist, a few loose tendrils framing the kind of face that people wrote epic poetry about thousands of years ago. High cheekbones and pouty lips. A jawline cut from marble. Eyes drawn heavy with liner scan the terrace, landing on Clarke for a second, and those lips pull up almost imperceptibly, twitching into the subtle hint of a smile.

Caught staring, Clarke flushes and drops her gaze, feigning a sudden fascination with the laminated menu.

“How is it that everyone here looks like a model?” Wells wonders aloud.

“It’s all the genes,” Octavia says in a superior tone, proud of her own distant Polisian ancestry. She props her chin on her hand and bats her lashes. “We’re naturally beautiful people, what can I say?”

Wells snorts. “Naturally conceited, maybe.”

“Whatever. Clarke. Clarke? Clarke.”

A finger snap in front of her face jolt Clarke out of her daze. She scowls, but when she lifts her eyes, seeking out another glimpse of the waitress, Clarke is disappointed to find her gone.

“What are you having?” Octavia asks. “I’m thinking… calamari to start, and maybe we could share the seafood platter?”

“Uh…” Clarke pretends to pour over the menu options, still in a state of distraction. The words blur together. Her pulse hasn’t slowed yet and her palms are sweating. “Sure, sounds good.”

“Clarke might prefer something off-menu,” Wells says, and she looks up again just in time to see him incline his head towards the waitress approaching.

Octavia hoots delightedly and Clarke kicks her under the table.

All the same, Clarke’s throat dries out.

She can’t force her eyes away, drinking up the sight in front of her. How the crisp, white short-sleeved blouse hugs the girl’s torso and toned arms, such a striking contrast against sun-bronzed skin. One too many buttons are undone, affording a peek of sharp clavicles and a shadowy inch of cleavage. It has Clarke wetting her lips as her eyes dip down, taking in the neat black skirt and heels. Legs that go on for miles and miles.

Clarke shifts in her seat, warmth spreading through every inch of her body. She can’t even blame the residual heat of a sweltering day, the gentle sea breeze providing welcome relief as the orange disc of the sun squats low on the horizon, the last golden rays reaching out like fingers across the sky. 

“Not a word,” Clarke warns, seconds before the waitress arrives at their table.

Then Clarke hears her speak. “Hello, I’m Lexa. Are you ready to order?” Lightly accented English delivered in a crisp, coolly confident voice with a girlish lilt, and Clarke is a goner. 

Fully melts into a puddle of lust while Octavia and Wells rattle off their choices. When it’s Clarke’s turn, she finds herself tongue-tied. Up close, those eyes are the lushest, loveliest shade of green, and Clarke is transfixed.

Her stomach swoops.

It’s ridiculous. She’s a grown adult, a medical professional with years of clinical training below her belt, and inside she’s a mess because a beautiful woman is looking at her with an expectant arch of one eyebrow, patiently waiting for Clarke to recover from whatever brain malfunction she’s currently experiencing. 

“Hi, hello,” trips from Clarke’s mouth and it feels like her soul leaves her body at the same time. In an instant, her face heats. She offers a small, flustered laugh. “Sorry, I’m a space cadet today. Head in the clouds. The time difference, I guess.”

Across the table, her friends hide their amusement behind their knuckles, clearly entertained by her latest episode of undignified flailing in front of an attractive stranger. 

Full lips curve into a smirk that does absolutely nothing to slow the rapid hammering of Clarke’s heart or cool her flushed cheeks.

“What can I get you?”

A date, please.

(And in five years, give or take, a springtime wedding in a converted barn with fairy lights strung everywhere and two hundred guests in attendance, if Mom has any say in the planning.)

Get it together, Griffin.

Like the flip of a switch, she turns on the charm. Eases into a smile, one that’s seldom failed her (and gotten her out of plenty of scrapes besides). Tucks her hair behind her ear and lets her fingers trail down her neck. She sees the way the woman–Lexa’s–eyes darken as they track the movement, how they make a quick but unsubtle appraisal of Clarke’s seated figure.

Her confidence soars.

The mild funk she’d found herself in from a long day of travelling evaporates.

“You know what, I’m feeling adventurous. Surprise me.” Her gaze flicks towards beestung lips then back up, locking eyes once more. “Lexa.”

They hold eye contact for a stretch of seconds, and Clarke feels a current run through her. Mutual attraction, instant and electric.

“More drinks?” The question is intended for the whole table, but Lexa’s attention doesn’t stray from Clarke until Wells clears his throat. She almost appears annoyed by the interruption, a flash of irritation in her eyes, a muscle in her lower cheek flexing before her expression smooths out and she turns her head to look at him. And, God, that jawline nearly takes out Clarke in the process. It’s lickable. 

“Could we have a pitcher of water, please? My friends here are extremely thirsty,” Wells says, glancing pointedly between Clarke and Octavia.

“Make that three margaritas,” Octavia overrules him. “And have the sexy bartender bring them over.”

“O!” Clarke snaps, mortified.

So brazen. 

She gives Lexa an apologetic look, but there’s a ghost of a smirk on her lips again, a gleam in her eyes that suggests she’s happy to play along.

When Lexa departs, Octavia bumps Clarke’s arm excitedly with her fist. “I saw that! My girl, getting her flirt on like a pro.”

“Flirt?” Wells chuckles. “She practically had a sign on her forehead that said: ‘funny how my legs are wide open all of a sudden.’ Zero points for subtlety.”

Clarke huffs out a sigh and crosses her arms. “Oh, fuck off. Let me objectify someone in peace.”

“No, no. It’s good!” Octavia insists. “You should be putting yourself out there more. Especially after the F-I-N-N debacle.”

An eye roll. “You can say his name, O. I won't relapse into a depressive episode.”

“Okay, but you deserve to have fun. Ogle girls. Guys. Nonbinary eye candy.” She pats Clarke’s wrist. “I fully support your hot girl summer.”

Octavia peers past Clarke to check out the bartender again. She bites her lip, eyes glazing over a bit. “And I, for one, plan to climb that fine man like a tree before the night is over.”

Clarke sighs again. Unfolding her arms, she reaches for the empty shot glass in front of her, twirling it around with her fingers. “She’s probably a player, anyway. I bet she’s slept with six sunburnt British girls already this season.”

Tearing her gaze away from the beefy hunk behind the bar, Octavia looks at Clarke dubiously, brows pulled together. “Uh, she seemed pretty laser-focused on you. I felt like I was intruding on some serious eye-fucking a minute ago.” 

A fiendish grin spreads. 

“All signs indicate that Sexy Lexy has the hots for Clarkeypoo too.”

“Stop,” Clarke groans, hiding her face in her hands while she squirms with embarrassment. She shakes it off. “Vacation flings are so cliche, and the last thing I need as a souvenir is an STI.”

“Can we just enjoy a civilised meal, is that too much to ask?” Wells says, shaking his head in dismay. “All this sex talk is spoiling my appetite. I really don’t want to think about either of you in that capacity, ever.”

“Such a killjoy,” Octavia tells him. “Don’t worry, we’ll find someone for you too. A bespectacled, buck-toothed museum guide or something, that’s more your speed.”

Clarke tunes out their ensuing good-natured bickering, eyes landing on Lexa where she stands at the bar, chatting up two stereotypically Scandinavian blonde backpacker types. A tiny, unreasonable ember of jealousy flares in her gut that she tries to ignore. It’s not like they’re anything to each other (yet). Maybe Lexa flirts with everyone to alleviate the boredom of her shift and this is all just a mildly diverting game to pass the time.

As though sensing Clarke’s attention on her from afar, Lexa glances over her shoulder, and in the brief moment when their eyes catch and hold, the slight smile that curves across Lexa’s lips feels like it might be Clarke’s downfall.

Next

[mythicalartistx]

Soriku in Novels Part 4 — DDD

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

The cricket's question made Riku think of Sora. Of course, Riku couldn't tell him everything, but Sora was still a friend with a special place in his heart.

"Yeah... actually I do." Riku closed his eyes and imagined Soras's face for a moment, then looked at Pinocchio and Jiminy. "That stupid grin he's always wearing— he's the best teacher I could ever have."

DDD novel — Riku's side.

I loved this scene during the game and it was clear in DDD he's so gay and he loves Sora so much. A big part of DDD in my perspective was being able to accept yourself/forgive yourself of the darkness of the past and maybe someday open himself up to Sora about his feelings.

And here it shows Sora has a special place in his heart... He definitely likes him. I love how he imagines Sora in the scene, I mean I thought he was thinking of Sora BUT TO EXPLICITLY SAY he imagined Sora's face is another thing.

"He saved me. But you two are nothing alike." Shiki leaned in close to Sora's ear and whispered, "You know, Neku and Riku are really similar."

"Huh?". Surprised, Sora looked at Neku.

Now that you mentioned it, I can see it. They're both a little prickly sometimes, but they have a heart of gold underneath.

"Wh-why are you staring at me..?" Neku returned Sora's gaze uneasily.

"Yeah, you may be onto something."

DDD NOVEL — Sora's Side

This is a nice section that shows a comparison between the characters. Shiki notes how Sora and Riku are nothing alike, but Neku is quite similar to Riku. It's not that Soriku filled, but it's nice to see the comparison with Neku who ends up in his actual game accidentally trading Shiki (who's very important to him/ with no memories at that) to continue to survive another round to be able to return to life.

Also I'd imagined Riku getting flustered if someone stares at him because of one of the kh2 novel states that Riku always won sword fights, but Sora won starring contests. HE PROBABLY GETS FLUSTERED.

"I won't hold back, and I won't underestimate you. I give everything I have to set you free. I was always jealous of you, Sora. I used to feel it all the time, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't still. I believe that feeling was darkness, but now I know it's not.

The truth is, it gave me strength, and so did having someone to challenge me. Light and Darkness are perfect compliments of each other — the shadows are always greatest next to the dark. I know what that means now, truly. When those dark feelings come over you, only your heart can decide whether to let them sink deeper into the darkness or to bring them out into the light of the sun.

Accepting both is what it means to have a heart. It gives us strength. Even a form of pride, in a way. I don't think anyone can honestly say it's not. Same with wanting to be stronger. Joy and Sorrow, Anger and Hatred— whether those feelings become your light or your darkness is for you to decide.

The strength of your darkness is what allows you to choose. That's why I choose to let the light shine onto my own darkness. And Sora that's you."

DDD Novel — Riku Side

I made a post on just this entire statement Riku made before but I had to include it, it's so gay. He's comparing dark and light to him and Sora. He says Sora is his light. He accepts both light and Darkness and because of that it's strength and some sort of pride... Maybe gay pride 🧐🧐🧐

But he realizes his jealousy made him stronger and just shows his development of how he is with darkness and how he is with Sora.

[desertfangs]

The Recruiter - Armand/Daniel - 999 words - Outsider POV

Thomas, a Talamasca agent, is sent to observe and talk to Daniel Molloy, the author of Interview with the Vampire, to assess if he might be a good fit for the organization.

Outsider POV is so fun and such a good way to get a new angle on these characters we love. I'm particularly obsessed with the Talamasca and how they might have sought after Daniel after his book was published.

This was written for @vcmicroficmay, Week 2's Prompt "Uncouth." Full text below the cut or on AO3.

Thomas watched the young man, Daniel Molloy, swallow the dregs of his whiskey sour as he worked meticulously on a crossword. He kept glancing up at the window to his right, watching the sun sink lower over the horizon. He tapped his foot beneath the table. Restless or agitated? Thomas couldn’t tell.

But he could tell this young man was hardly Talamasca material. He smoked like a chimney, nicotine and newsprint staining his fingers. He idly chewed the cap of his pen as he stared at the puzzle. Blue ink stained his cheek. The collar of his t-shirt was stretched and frayed. 

Uncouth was the word that came to mind. 

He was in his early twenties, with blond hair and piercing eyes. This was the author of Interview with the Vampire, a novel too full of accuracies about what was known of vampires to be wholly made up. Some of the facts had even been verified by the Order in Paris. So he had gotten the story from somewhere. No reason to believe he hadn’t been the hapless reporter boy in the tale. 

But so what? He’d met a vampire and survived. A feat to be sure, but not enough to induct him into their order, to entrust him with their secrets. This boy who lazily stretched as he stood. He came up to the bar where Thomas sat and ordered another cocktail. Thomas pretended to be engaged in his own newspaper but when he looked up, the boy was staring at him. Yes, those eyes were indeed something, full of curiosity.

For a second, Thomas felt that perhaps he’d misjudged this young man. He reached up to his own cheek and touched where Daniel’s cheek was smeared with ink. “You have a spot,” Thomas said.

Daniel laughed. He rubbed at his cheek, doing little more than spreading the stain around. “Thanks. I bought a cheap box of pens and they all leak,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. The bartender placed a fresh drink in front of him. Daniel counted out bills from his bill fold and then gestured to Thomas’ nearly untouched gin and tonic. “Get him another round, too, would you?” 

The bartender nodded. Daniel smiled at him, dropped cash on the bar, and went back to his table. 

He was polite enough. And now Thomas certainly had an opening to speak with him further. But he waited, watching as the boy abandoned his crossword and turned fixedly toward the window as the night fell. The boy’s foot tapping increased. He drummed his fingers against the table. Was he meeting someone? All reports said that the boy traveled alone and erratically. To what purpose, the Talamasca remained unclear. 

Most agents had only observed him from a distance, except for Clara, and she had gone missing. Strange, her disappearance. Though there was no proof it was related to the boy. It happened. Agents went missing, some of their own volition, disappearing to escape the organization when they grew tired of the rules and strictures. The weak culling themselves. 

Thomas took a sip of his cocktail, the gin sharp. He supposed he ought to at least ask Daniel some questions and ascertain the boy’s feelings on the supernatural. It was possible the interview had actually happened but perhaps Daniel thought it was all a dream.

Daniel was leaning on his elbow, staring out the window at the now-dark street. If he was meeting someone, it seemed clear he’d been stood up. All the better for Thomas’ purposes. 

Thomas climbed off the barstool. He bumped into someone as he did and started to apologize. 

His pulse jumped. 

The figure in front of him was no man. His pale white skin was tinged pink but not enough to pass for human, not if you knew what to look for. Thomas had seen a vampire once, but only from a distance. Up close, there was no mistaking it. The one before him had auburn hair, cropped short, and he wore a blue paisley button up shirt. His eyes were liquid amber as they bore into Thomas. 

I know what you are.

The words came into Thomas’ mind as if spoken. Several members of his order knew that trick but it wasn’t a skill Thomas possessed. His heart pounded in his chest. 

I could say the same, Thomas thought back. 

The creature in front of him smiled impishly. Viciously. His blood ran cold. This thing—this monster — was going to kill him. He was certain of it. 

“You’re here,” Daniel’s voice came from the table. The immortal creature broke his gaze from Thomas and turned to the boy and they seemed to have some silent exchange. 

Thomas shook his head, confused. This wasn’t the vampire from the interview… No, he was the one from the Theatre, wasn’t he? Armand, that was his name. 

Thomas swallowed, blood thrumming in his ears. 

You’re going to walk out of here and forget everything you saw in this bar. Is that understood? 

Thomas nodded weakly. 

Go, now, and forget. 

Thomas found he could not disobey. He gathered his coat from the back of the chair, watching as Armand went to the table and sat with Daniel Molloy. He wanted to go over and demand to know what was going on, how they knew each other. Had Armand been the one who’d given Daniel the tale he’d laid out in his book? 

But Thomas felt himself walking out of the bar without wanting to, unable to stop himself.

 He reached the rain-slicked street and pulled his coat tighter. The air was cold and it was dark. When had it gotten dark? 

His mind felt foggy. He turned around and looked at the bar’s sign. He remembered coming here to find that young author, but there’d been no sign of him. Usually the Talamasca’s intelligence was better. He would find him next time.

For now, he had the strongest urge to crawl into bed and sleep until morning. 

[fadingreveries]

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (Pt. 7)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Love awaits in the royal court of Cordonia as Riley competes for the Crown Prince! Will she accept his proposal, or will someone else win her heart?

Word Count: 1.6k

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

~ ~ ~

A short time later, Riley and Liam were on their own private tour boat headed to the Statue of Liberty. While Riley pointed out other nearby monuments and attractions on land, Liam hung onto every word she said. There was something in the way she spoke so passionately and excitedly about all that she saw was truly admirable. 

“Part of me didn’t think you’d pull this off,” Liam admitted with a grin, glancing back at the docks where the boat had just departed from. 

“You didn’t think I could pull it off? You just don’t know me very well,” Riley playfully smiled, shrugging her shoulders. 

“You’re right. But I’d like to fix that,” Liam commented, before his voice dropped to a hushed tone. “You’re fascinating, Riley. Why are you doing this for me?”

“I’m doing this because… you seemed like you needed it,” Riley confessed, glancing back at Liam with a shy smile. 

“That’s… so sweet of you,” Liam thanked her, a slight blush on his cheeks. This was the most thoughtful gift he had been given in a long time. “To be honest, no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

For some reason, Riley found that hard to believe. She imagined everyone bending over backwards to do anything to please a prince. “Really? Come on, you’re a prince. I bet people do things for you all the time.”

“I do get all the perks that come with being royalty, but no one’s ever seen me as just… me,” Liam revealed, breathing a slow breath out almost like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had never been able to put it into words before until now. “No one’s ever listened to me the way you do. No one’s ever come up with a spur-of-the-moment plan to make my dreams come true.”

Curious to learn more about this boy’s innermost thoughts and dreams, Riley gently asked, “Liam… what else do you dream about?”

Truthfully, there was very little time for Liam to think about himself when all eyes were on him every moment back home. But when he thought about her question, Liam answered, “Finding someone. Someone who can be the queen that Cordonia needs.”

It seemed like Liam wanted to say more when he opened his mouth and closed it quickly, so Riley added, “And… someone you fall in love with, right?”

“That’s never been part of the criteria that the Cordonian Council uses,” Liam wryly said, shaking his head. A future monarch was meant to have a partner who could rule their kingdom with stability. Love didn’t seem to fit in that equation. 

Suddenly, the boat slowed and the foggy mists of the harbour parted in the middle. In the distance, they saw the Statue of Liberty appear. 

“So? What do you think?” Riley asked, turning to Liam to see his reaction. 

For a moment, Liam was speechless and could only stare in wonder. The deep midnight blue sky and twinkling stars provided the most majestic background for the Statue of Liberty. She looked proud and determined, raising her torch up high in the air as the flames glowed a light yellow matching the crown on her head. 

“Magnificent. I’ve heard that art has meaning because of what it makes the viewer feel. Whether it’s ink splatters on a canvas or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, it only matters if it moves you,” Liam commented, letting out a sigh of amazement. 

“And?” Riley prodded, wanting to hear more of his thoughts seeing a monument he had only dreamed of visiting. 

“And right now, looking at this view with you, I feel like anything is possible,” Liam confessed, gazing at her with hope. “Thank you for this moment, Riley. This feeling… this means more to me than you could ever know.”

“Liam…” Riley began, her eyes never leaving his gaze. 

“I want you to know that I admire you. Your adventurous spirit. The way you follow your heart,” Liam revealed. He hadn’t known her for long and if this was the only night they had together, he wanted to at least tell her his honest opinion of her. 

Touched by Liam’s words, Riley felt a swell of pride warming her chest. But when she realized he was echoing his own sentiments of wanting to be free and follow what his heart desired, Riley quietly spoke, “You can live that way too.”

With a sad smile, Liam replied, “If only. My whole life I’ve prepared myself to do what’s best for Cordonia.”

As they leaned in closer to each other, Riley whispered, “Well, we’re not in Cordonia now…”

Almost instinctively, their hands met and laced together, holding tight to the other as if they would never find the right time to let go. There was a sense of hope and magic intertwined in their fingers. Riley looked up into his eyes as he drew close to her. Liam pulled her in close to him, cupping her cheek as she leaned in. Meeting in the middle, they felt a warm feeling rush throughout their bodies that connected them as one. They pulled away, and he leaned his forehead against hers. 

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Liam chuckled, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. 

Riley laughed, placing her arm on Liam’s. “I try.”

As he brushed his finger on her cheek, Liam softly spoke, “I’m glad to have met you, Riley. I’ll never forget this night…”

__________

The next morning, Riley got ready for her day. Last night with Liam was fun, even more than she could have ever asked for. But as she dressed in her work attire, she knew it was only a distant memory to remember from now on. It was time to face the real world where she would continue on with her endless days of work at the restaurant. 

Riley walked up to the doors of the bar where she worked, fishing her pockets for her name tag. She jumped in her spot when she heard a familiar voice call out from behind her. She wasn’t expecting to see Maxwell waving at her from the other side of the street. 

“Riley! Glad I caught you,” Maxwell exclaimed, rushing up towards her. “We’re heading back to Cordonia so Liam can find someone to marry and all that jazz. But before I go, I wanted to officially extend to you an invitation to join us for the festivities in Cordonia.”

“Huh?” Riley asked, confused. Maybe she was still in a dream, dazed from her excursion with Liam last night.

“You wouldn’t usually be allowed to join… but I want to sponsor you!” Maxwell revealed, 

Clearly, Maxwell needed to do some more explaining because everything he said was making her mind race. Riley echoed his words, “Sponsor me?”

“I’m from a noble house, but I don’t have any sisters, so we don’t have anyone in contention to marry the Prince. Instead, we can sponsor any girl we choose. And you’re my pick,” Maxwell explained.

Raising her eyebrows, Riley asked, “You want to sponsor me? Why me?”

“I’m not just doing it for you. I saw how Liam looked at you last night. I’ve never seen him so happy. Honestly? I don’t want him to lose that,” Maxwell explained. Liam hadn’t said anything once they had gone back to their hotel, but the love struck look in his eyes had given it all away. “We’re kinda crunched for time, though. I’ve got a plane leaving within the hour…”

This was too much information for a conversation that was only less than five minutes. Riley’s eyes widened. “Whoa. You’re moving a little fast, don’t you think?”

“No time to waste. The opening Masquerade is tonight! It’s the start of the… uh, I guess you could say, it’s the start of the competition,” Maxwell replied, shrugging his shoulders. 

Everything Maxwell had revealed only prompted her to find out more about what exactly he meant. Riley questioned, “What do you mean?”

“There’s a whole horde of gorgeous, rich, noble women vying to become Cordonia’s next queen. And it’s not just about winning the Prince’s hand. You’ve also got to prove to the council that you can rule Cordonia with him,” Maxwell answered, but he gave a reassuring smile. “But I think you’ve got what it takes. You’re witty and charming,”

Riley was still confused. A masquerade? Winning over the Cordonian council? “Uh, thanks. So… a fancy Masquerade… and what else am I getting myself into?”

“Fun stuff, I promise! You’ll get to go yachting in the Mediterranean, skiing in the Alps, and dancing in the Royal Palace…” Maxwell stated, counting on his fingers before gesturing back to the restaurant. “Or y’know, you can stay here… and go back to your waitressing gig with your crappy boss. That’s probably about as good,” Maxwell said.

For a moment, Riley thought about everything that happened last night… The way she felt an instant connection to Liam at the bar. The way he came up to talk to her at the end of her shift. Climbing up the hill with him to see the view of the beach. Warming up by the bonfire with him. Talking for hours with Liam and sharing parts of each other. Seeing the Statue of Liberty together. Ending the night with one unforgettable kiss. 

She was always looking for more adventure in her life. Why not take the opportunity she was being given? Then Riley slowly started to smile. She answered, “I’m in.”

“Yeah! Go pack your bags. This is going to be the adventure of a lifetime!” Maxwell whooped out, as the two headed back in the direction of her apartment ready to embark on their journey to Cordonia.

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: @kingliam2019 @princess-geek @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @tessa-liam

[anotherrosesthatfell]

[E.L.A] Randoms meme because I realize I never make one before 💀

Merciless: what's your most embarrassing moment?

Drop: getting caught while reading rated novel...

Goth: thought you were talking to a cat but it was paper bag instead-

Palette: attempted suicide but failed multiple times.

Everyone-Palette : ...

Palette: oh and eating salt instead of sugar.

Dream: Hey Palette, why did Drop called me a dilf and your mother a milf?

Palette: *cOuGh vIoLentLY*

Palette: P-Pardon me?

Dream: your sister called me a dilf. What does that mean?

Palette: Haha... It mean that uh...*Run*

Cor.Nightmare: you are adopted.

Merciless: took you long enough to speak the truth!

Cor.Nightmare: ah no, you are my son but I sold you to another family.

Merciless: ... f*ck.

Merciless: you think you guys had it worse?!

Merciless: a ten years old literally harassed me!

Drop: *T-Pose* you can't escape me my dear.

Merciless: AH!

Error: shut up, Dream.

Dream: no, you shut up!

Error: that why your shoes ranggin'

Dream: that's why your children's dead.

Error: ... ...

Dream: Dead as hell.

Ink: *Ink from the distance* 😦

Dream: what shoes did they get on their casket?

Palette: 🕳...🚶

Dream:That's why Fresh got no knees, he can't pray to God. How about that?

Crescent: this is where I watched my brother died, Palette...

Palette: Cowabummer!

Palette: *having a breakdown*

Merciless: sooo uh wanna go out on a date?

Lux: I said make Palette spill out his secret... Not f*cking took him out on a date.

Merciless:

Merciless: are we in open relationship?

Merciless: Don't touch me!

Crescent: *poke Merciless with fake hand*

Crescent: I'm not touching you.

Crescent: my own mother... Called me a monster.

Dream: Crescent-

Crescent: she was right of course but it still hurts.

Dust: watching the lake-

Horror: I am in love with you, Dust.

Dust:

Horror:

Dust: *run*

[purpleshoenickelhuman]

If someone ever writes fanfiction or makes fanart of AU stuff where Vanitas is given more (redeemable) characteristics and/or his own arc to become a better person, I think his Keyblade should be End of Pain, the one from Dream Drop Distance:

I think it fits him well, color scheme and theme wise, especially with the things he faced in the Birth By Sleep novel where Xehanort did many horrible things to him. It even keeps the Gazing Eye motif from his Void Gear/Xehanort’s No Name as well as a similar-yet-different animal motif from No Name:

[itsuki-minamy]

"K - RETURN OF KINGS" (Novel)

CHAPTER 13: THE END OF THE DREAM

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

As he ran through the dark passage, something bright opened again.

It was similar to the space where Mishakuji was located, but it was even higher in the ceiling and with countless huge cylinders. There was even a strict air, like an ancient Greek temple.

As he ran through the pillars, Shiro thought of Kuro whom he had left just now.

(Kuro. I believe in you.)

Mishakuji Yukari is a strong enemy. Perhaps his power will even reach the king. Facing the blade, Shiro did not confirm whether Kuro could win alone.

That's why he believes in him. That's the only thing Shiro can do.

At this moment, multiple members of the "Jungle" clan appeared from the front.

"There they are! Don't let them pass!"

The muzzle turned there at once. Looking at them, Neko who was running next to him, murmured.

"They won't defeat me!"

With the spirit, Neko drew a zigzag path, lowering herself like a four-legged beast. She jumped into the air and decided to drop the heel to the main Clansman.

"This is...!"

Other Clansmen quickly take the distance and aimed at Neko. However, they couldn't catch her literally jumping like a cat, and she was just thrown away.

At this moment, Neko's eyes were shining, and the sound of the bell echoed.

"Take this!"

"Jungle Attack!"

The Clansmen held their weapons and began to hit each other. Neko's reconnaissance operation skill and ability. Neko watched the Clansmen using their weapons to hit each other, and was satisfied.

"Neko!"

Shiro ran again as he called after her. There isn't much time left. They have to get to the "Slate" as soon as possible.

And...

Shiro suddenly saw that something strange was placed between the pillars.

A tatami with six mats. Kitchen with an old refrigerator. Various plaques in the Chabudai.

The appearance of a room, as if a family lived there, was left in a solemn underground space.

"......"

Hisui Nagare also has friends. The opponent has something that can be called family.

The fact that he knew sank into his chest.

But he can't stop. Hisui Nagare has a wish, and Shiro also has his own wish. That's completely understandable too. If there was something that could not be certified, there was only one thing to do.

Shiro and Neko arrived there.

A gigantic stone disk placed carelessly on the ground, the "Dresden Slate".

A relic that brings innovation and confusion to humanity.

And, as if to protect him, a solitary bird was there.

"It's here! It's here!"

The parrot made a sound. He had seen that parrot several times. He is a messenger of the "Green King" named Kotosaka.

Then, the young man with Kotosaka on his shoulder slowly stood up.

"...Hisui Nagare."

Hearing Shiro's words, the young "Green King" Hisui Nagare smiled silently. Neko nodded and snuggled into Shiro.

Nagare looked at him and silently opened his mouth.

"First King, Adolf K. Weismann, Isana Yashiro. Welcome."

+++++++++++

Mishakuji gently narrowed his eyes as his sword flickered slowly.

Kuro's sword in front of him doesn't seem to be as shaken as before. Unfazed by Mishukaji's brilliant move, he is trying to discern the true nature of him.

Mishakuji freely admired that state.

"Good. Although it contains great power, it is as calm as the surface of a lake. I can see your growth."

In response, Kuro replied in a low voice.

"...I've finally begun to see it too. It may seem like your sword can change shape, but there is a core running through it. The core that sustains the strength."

Mishakuji chuckled and readjusted his "Ayamachi".

"It's a strange destiny. Although we grew up under the same "king", we each received different "kings" and now our paths cross this way. It's wonderful."

Once upon a time, when they were wielding swords together under the tutelage of Miwa Ichigen, did they ever think that something like this would happen?

At the very least, it is true that the current Kuro has become an attractive enemy. There aren't many people he wants to kill from the bottom of his heart.

Mishakuji was happy about that, regardless of his morals or his feelings.

"I guess it's time we found our King. Let's get started, Kuro-chan."

Mishakuji pointed the tip at Kuro, as if he was swearing.

"My sword is to fulfill the sincerest wish of the "Green King"."

Kuro also pointed the tip of "Kotowari" towards Mishakuji and muttered to himself.

"And I, to fulfill the wish of the "Silver King"."

+++++++++++

"Oraaaaaaaaah, but what?!"

Yata was running the entire time, letting out a roar.

The map that was informed to him in advance has long since been forgotten by him. That's not to say he was running blindly. Yata already knew the coordinates he had to reach. The "warmth" he feels from Anna's supernatural network is directly beneath the presence of his friends.

But before he gets there, he will have to go through a maze.

From the darkness along the corridors, behind the barricades, from the walkways, members of the "Jungle" clan began to emerge. They really were a nuisance. Yata swung his staff to deflect the bullets they fired, smashing them, jumping over their bodies and moving forward.

"Yata-chan, have you arrived yet?"

"Yata-san, hurry up...!"

Yata's frustration increased as he received communications from Kusanagi and Kamamoto. He shouted, gritting his teeth and punching the members of the "Jungle" clan.

"I'm so excited that I keep running as fast as I can! Just wait a little longer!"

Anna's supernatural network also shares his sense of sight and hearing. Yata was well aware of the burden his late arrival placed on everyone else. Yata forced himself to take a breath, which was about to run out, and accelerated even more.

"Alright."

Suddenly, he heard that voice.

"I believe in Misaki."

He felt as if Anna's direct gaze was fixed on Yata.

Hearing that, Yata laughed. He thought to himself as he emitted flames from the tip of the staff.

(King believes in me. If I don't answer, it will be a lie!)

The staff slammed into the wall, leaving a trail of flames in the darkness. Even more clansmen wait beyond the toppled and exploded wall. Yata stood up and stared at them.

"I am Yata Misaki, captain of the "Homura" vanguard! Stay away unless you want to die!"

+++++++++++

The unrest on the ground was already calming down.

The defeat of the "Gray King" had a great impact on the morale of the Green Clan members, and most of them retreated to their hideouts or were unable to escape and were captured by "Scepter 4". Some began to surrender voluntarily, showing no signs of resistance. Many people on the ground have probably already made up their minds. However, Awashima's expression never cleared up.

"Captain..."

Reisi Munakata was looking towards the "hideout" when she called out to him with concern.

Blue sparks scattered intermittently on his back. An uncontrollable supernatural ability causes a short circuit, which manifests as a visible anomaly.

Without turning around, Munakata said to Awashima.

"...Awashima-kun. When the time comes, don't hesitate."

Awashima bit her lip and looked up at the sky.

A broken "Sword of Damocles" hovered directly above Munakata. Like Munakata's body, it emits numerous sparks and blue aura crystals constantly break off and disappear into thin air.

It wouldn't have been strange if it fell at any moment.

Awashima looked at him and put her hand on the hilt of her own saber. Pain, sadness, despair. He kept all those emotions inside her heart and thought.

(Just do what you have to do.)

All the other members noticed Awashima's deadly expression. Before they knew it, they were watching Awashima and their "King" from afar. No matter how fate turns out, they want to see it with their own eyes.

Then only one person noticed it.

The "Gray King", Tenkei Iwafune, who was lying on the ground, suddenly disappeared.

He maybe he used some supernatural ability, or maybe he crawled with all his might. The only person who noticed that was Gouki Zenjo, who silently closed his eyes and muttered to himself.

"...At least he has a place to die."

+++++++++++

His first impression was that he was a much younger man than he had imagined.

To awaken the "Slate" and encourage innovation in humanity. He was a delicate and gentle man who did not seem willing to commit such a scandalous act. If he had not been surrounded by a powerful aura, perhaps he would not have been able to believe in him or even now.

The "Green King", who was connected to the "Slate", silently opened his mouth.

"Honestly, I didn't expect you to go this far. As expected."

"Because I also have a will."

Hisui Nagare tilted his head slightly at Shiro's response. In a regretful tone, he said...

"I'm your fan... that is, I'm a fan of the "Silver King" that you used to be. I have great empathy with the feelings you once confided to the "Slate". Do you want to join hands with me?"

Shiro shook his head without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to reject you again."

"...Now that I think about it, you didn't answer me why last time either."

"That..."

Just as he was about to speak, Neko suddenly stepped forward and stuck out her tongue.

"Bleh, no! Shiro won't be your friend!"

Kotosaka, who remained on Nagare's shoulder, replied in a sharp voice.

"Shut up, you stupid cat!"

"Shut up, you idiot bird!"

Neko and Kotosaka looked at each other, growling and threatening each other.

"Ameno Miyabi."

Suddenly, Nagare called out to her.

Neko trembled. Hisui Nagare guards her true identity, the absolute secret that Neko tried to hide. Neko was afraid of that more than anything.

"Like me, you experienced the Kagutsu Incident. You are one of the few people who survived that tragedy."

Nagare easily revealed his true identity.

"Just as I woke up as a "King" when the "Red King" caused a burst of royal power, you also gained power and became Strain. And just as I lost my life, you manipulated your own memories and ended up living like a cat. We two are people from whom the "Slate" stole everything... and we got everything new."

Shiro looked at Neko.

Neko didn't exchange glances with Shiro, she just grabbed him tightly by the sleeve.

"In the course of life, people encounter many irrational situations. What matters is whether or not you can resist that irrational fate. Do you have that power? We encountered the Kagutsu Incident, but we overcame it with the power that gave us the "Slate". People should have the power to protect themselves and pave their way. The "Slate" will give them that."

Shiro flatly denied that theory.

"No. The power of the "Slate" is too much for humans to possess."

Nagare also immediately replied.

"Why? Don't you believe in people? If so, I'm disappointed. I'm disillusioned. You used to believe in people's potential more than anyone else."

"That's not true! I..."

"I don't understand!"

Only a little.

The discussion was interrupted by Neko's words.

Biting her lip and suppressing her fear, Neko still kept her eyes fixed on Nagare. She thought slowly and, as she did, she opened her mouth.

"I don't understand what you're saying. But Wagahai doesn't need a "Slate". Shiro, Kurosuke and everyone else can do without that!"

"...Neko."

"Whoever it is, even if I'm a monster, I'll never disappear just because of that. So, I'm fine with that. That's all I need! I don't need anything else!"

"......"

"There have been bad things in the past and I think there will be more in the future. But what I want right now is not a "Slate". It's delicious food and someone who will eat it with me. That's what Wagahai wants!"

Tears welled up in Neko's eyes.

What is her "true identity"? Shiro still doesn't know.

He probably doesn’t need to know. Unless Neko wants them to know, there's no need to pry. What Shiro and Kuro want is the "Neko" of now, who is innocent and full of emotion.

Taking Neko's hand, Shiro looked at Nagare and said...

"Hisui Nagare. What people need is not a "Slate". It's just it... that's right. A chabudai. That's enough. That's my conclusion. The choice of the "Silver King"."

After a while of silence, Nagare suddenly said...

"...What a pity."

"Nagare! Don't be disappointed! Nagare!"

Encouraged by Kotosaka, Nagare smiled a little. He looked at Shiro and said...

"So... let me ask you something. Why did you come here, "Silver King"?"

"I came to destroy the "Slate"."

A slight sneer emerged from Nagare's smile.

"How? You should be the most aware of the physical strength of the "Slate". I would like to add that I will not let you touch it again."

In an instant, a green light illuminated Nagare's chest. In the blink of an eye, it enveloped his entire body, manifesting as an aura so powerful that he could feel it on his skin.

"I guess so..."

When he replied in a low voice, the slight sneer that had been mixed into Nagare's expression disappeared. Along with his warning, the green shrine that Nagare uses became even more intense.

"Now I can connect with the "Slate" and absorb its power inexhaustibly. If I feel like it, "Silver King", I can use your "immutable" power and my "alterable" power. I can overwrite it and even kill you. I am invincible."

"......"

"Still, you are resisting, "Silver King"."

"If you were me, would you give up?"

Nagare narrowed his eyes and kicked the wheelchair back.

That was the end of the story. From now on, it was not the time for conversation, but for beliefs and fist bumps.

+++++++++++

Anna was the first to notice.

As the "Red Queen", she has a sensory capacity that far exceeds that of a Strain. Her higher perceptive powers sensed the existence of "it" before it manifested.

She turned her gaze toward the sky as if to check. In her field of vision, which only reflected red, "It" tried to take shape, not as a color, but as a figure colored by an aura.

''Silver'' and ''Green'', the two ''Swords of Damocles''.

Anna understood exactly what that meant. The two kings, Isana Yashiro and Hisui Nagare, finally met.

Slowly, impatience crept up her spine.

In a head-on confrontation, the probability of Shiro defeating Nagare is zero. In theory, no one could beat Nagare, who can draw unlimited energy from the ''Slate''.

There is no more grace left. If they don't carry out the plan immediately...

At this moment, the marble that Kamamoto was holding emitted a red glow.

"Anna! It's here, it's the signal!"

Anna gritted her teeth. Her excellent sensory ability felt that "it was not like this yet". All the marbles are not in the correct position yet.

At that moment, Yata and Kusanagi's screams echoed through the network.

"We're almost there! Just do it!"

"Anna, do it!"

She closed her eyes, she gave a sigh and when she opened her eyelids again, her doubts had already dissipated. She broadcast the proclamation of her as "King" to the supernatural network.

"From now on, we will gather all the power of the Red Clan and open the "way"...!"

A bright red aura came out from her folded arms. The aura turned into a flame, a shrine, and spread towards the clansmen like flames spreading across the plains.

Anna felt a burning sensation on her neck as the fourth "Sword of Damocles" appeared above her head.

Kamamoto, who was next to her, clenched his fist and shouted.

"No Blood!"

Kusanagi, who was deep underground, laughed in fighting spirit.

"No Bone!"

Yata, who was further down, ran with determination in his heart.

"No Ash!"

At their respective stations, the clan members (Akagi, Bando, Chitose, Dewa, Eric, and Fujishima) expressed their thoughts and threw the marbles in their hands.

Anna could see it in her eyes. Her eyes, which only recognize the color red, were able to see through "Homura's" red color through space. The red dots were connected in a straight line, forming a straight line.

She should have already abandoned her doubts. She knew she had to do it.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she could do it.

That flame. That red. The power of the King. Is it possible for her to control it?

(Will I be able to achieve things like that person?)

A few seconds of coma. The question that ran through Anna's mind, however, disappeared in the next moment. Someone was behind her.

It wasn't Kamamoto. Neither do the other members of the clan. His presence was clearly felt even from a distance.

Furthermore, the person behind Anna was much bigger than them. A bright, warm, soft and beautiful red.

Anna watched, unblinking, as his hand reached over her shoulder and took hers.

Anna's lips parted. Her voice overlapped with that of the man behind her, echoing her words.

"Burn them!"

The flames on both arms enveloped the marble in the air, as if it had a will. The exploding supernatural flame penetrated the ground and caused the marbles on the ground to explode, expanding further and swallowing the marbles below, increasing its power by doubling each time it was chained together. A huge column of fire engulfed everything from the first floor of the basement to the tenth floor of the basement, burning it to the ground.

Anna could see that enormous column of fire.

The flame of the King that she created with the power of all.

Anna looked back.

However, there was no one there. The shadow of his tall figure, the warmth she felt, the smile on his lips, nothing. There was no trace of his existence left there.

Instead, Munakata's face loomed near the exit from the ground.

Seeing a hint of pain in his eyes, Anna knew that Munakata had seen the same thing as her.

She met Munakata's eyes. Anna nodded slightly and lowered her eyes.

Then, remembering the man who was behind her at the end, Anna laughed a little.

+++++++++++

The sound of an explosion echoed in the distance, and Nagare recognized it simply as the sound of a battle.

In various parts of the "secret base", clan members "Jungle" and "Homura" fight fierce battles. Naturally, the weapons given to the clan members included bombs, so he thought that was the reason.

By the time he realized that was different, it was too late.

The sound of explosions echoed at regular intervals, getting closer and louder. When he gasped and looked up, a waterfall-like flame had already broken through the ceiling and was falling onto the "Slate".

The roaring stream of flames engulfed Nagare's body and licked the entire hall. Kotosaka jumped into the air and the others deployed a supernatural shield to block the flames.

Nagare was the only one who was directly exposed to the flames.

If he were a normal person, he wouldn't have been left with even a speck of dust. Even a normal "King" would not have been able to survive unscathed.

Of course, Nagare was none of those things.

"Is this your plan?"

Despite being exposed to the inferno that was still pouring out, Nagare did not suffer a single burn.

Nagare said with a sigh.

"I am deeply disappointed. What is the point of doing something like this?"

He thought that Isana Yashiro's intelligence was on par with his, so he didn't want to think that such a foolish plan was a trump card. If he truly believed that Nagare could be defeated with the supporting fire of the "Red Queen", then he was no longer even a person to talk to.

And Shairo did not disappoint Nagare's expectations.

"...The path is already made."

"Path?"

Nagare looked up again at the words he murmured.

He could see the blue sky.

Nagare stopped breathing. The blue sky, the white of the clouds. And floating there, swords of various colors.

He felt as if his electromagnetic heart was beating rapidly.

"Perhaps..."

"That's right."

The light of determination shone in Shiro's eyes. Determined to overcome or crush the difficulties before them by any means necessary. The formula for this already exists within Shiro.

In a lower voice, Shiro spoke of the method.

"I will destroy the "Slate" with a "Damocles Down"."

+++++++++++

Mishakuji Yukari had never thought that his sword was as beautiful as it was now.

A flash of "excess" released from an impossible angle, free and flexible, is truly art. Mishakuji views his swordsmanship that way, not as a boast, but as a fair evaluation. A human-like swordsman who steps forward as if he were dancing and wields his sword as if in full bloom will not be able to take a single hit.

Yes. If you do not have the proper skill in using the sword, you will never be able to bring out the beauty of the sword.

That's why Mishakuji loudly praised his opponent.

"That's amazing, Kuro-chan! You've become so strong. You're almost on par with me now!"

Yes. Yatogami Kuro also became more beautiful than he had ever seen before.

Firm and solid as a rock, no matter how unexpected the blow, "Kotowari" will absorb it and unleash a devastating counterattack. His eyes never waver, always fixed on Mishakuji.

Ah, Mishakuji thought, with a tingle.

(I wish this moment could last forever!)

However, the reality is that that is not the case. Mishakuji knew this better than anyone.

The elevated "Ayamachi" and the lower "Kotowari" crossed each other. The surrounding auras repel each other, producing sparks and a sizzle.

Mishakuji smiled charmingly as he used one hand to relieve the pressure of his spit.

"But right now, you can't just be even. If you don't surpass me, you won't be able to go to your "King"!"

"Kuh..."

Biting his lip in frustration, Kuro shifted his grip slightly. When he released the amount of pressure that had been loosened, Kuro flexibly withdrew and readied his sword again.

Mishakuji raised his voice as he made his sword dance gracefully with just one hand.

"Come, show me!"

At that moment two lights exploded.

Silver and green. He could know it without seeing it, because it is the light of his King.

"That's from Nagare-chan."

The appearance of the "Sword of Damocles" meant that Isana Yashiro and Hisui Nagare were at war.

That in itself stirred no emotion in Mishakuji. If those two fight, Nagare will definitely win. There was no way that his "Green King", who was connected to the "Slate", would be defeated, no matter how many conditions were combined.

So what surprised Mishakuji was Kuro's reaction.

He took something out of his pocket. It is a single coin that shines silver. Gripping his tightly, Kuro muttered.

"That's right. My sword is to my King, Shiro. As long as I'm with him..."

Along with the coin, Kuro grabbed the hilt of his sword and silently looked at Mishakuji.

Mishakuji was impressed by that look. His eyes are like the surface of a calm lake, without haste or hesitation, just a determination hidden deep inside.

Kuro declared happily, mirroring Mishukaji in his incredibly deep eyes.

"Mishakuji Yukari. I will surpass you!"

Mishakuji let out a sigh and laughed.

The current Kuro is the strongest Kuro to date.

Yatogami Kuro is not Mishakuji Yukari. He operates with a completely different logic than Mishakuji, who acts freely and selfishly.

Kuro demonstrates his ultimate power for the sake of the King. For his Lord. It's for someone important.

That's why Kuro was the strongest at that time. To save the "King" who is in trouble, run to his side as soon as possible and defeat the enemy in front of him. He will expend all of his life force for that purpose.

Mishakuji couldn't help but be happy about that. He considers the last-minute exchanges of life and the brilliance of will that emerges to be the most beautiful of all.

Kuro kicked the ground.

Unconsciously, Mishakuji also started running.

Rounding to ''Kotowari''. Preventing, in return, he pushed "Ayamachi", repelling him. Sparks fly from tip to tip and the pressure on the blade emits light. A deadly dance with two swords, a thin line between life and death as if they were playing. As if he were playing in a paradise, Mishakuji was captivated by the moment.

And then, the end came without a hitch.

Kuro intervened. Two steps, three steps, the speed far exceeded Mishakuji's expectations. As he raised the spirit of division, he turned, as if half of his body was immersed in it.

Before he knew it, the "Kotowari" sword had pierced Mishakuji's chest.

''Ayamachi'' flew through the air and rolled on the concrete making a sound.

Before he could think of anything, the words came pouring out.

"That was beautiful..."

He collapsed and fell to his knees. Fever and pain from his shoulder to his chest. He could feel the blood dripping and coming out of his fingers.

His fingertips could still move, meaning he could still grasp the sword.

But he wasn't going to do that.

The decision has already been made.

This is the first time he has been defeated since he pointed his sword at Ichigen Miwa. He couldn't bear to see that great swordsman slowly lose his life to illness. He wanted to see his life burn in the midst of battle. So he doesn't regret what he did.

And now...

At this moment, his youngest disciple, who could only tremble, was about to surpass him. Mishakuji felt quiet satisfaction in the fact that no one else had cut him except the man who had inherited Miwa's technique.

His feet were shaking. Someone is fighting somewhere. Kuro looked towards the end of the hallway with an impatient expression on his face.

"Damn, it's started!"

Mishakuji muttered under his breath.

"...Kill me. And go quickly to your king."

Then, Mishakuji closed his eyes.

There was a pause.

Mishakuji opened his eyelids at the sound of the doorbell.

When he looked, he saw that Kuro had sheathed his sword.

Before Mishakuji could say anything, Kuro stared at him.

"In the fields and mountains the color may differ, but we are like noni seeds."

Yes, he recited a poem.

Mishakuji rolled his eyes. He remembers the poet Miwa's haikus without missing a single word. However, what Kuro said was...

"...I don't know that poem."

"It's my poem... Goodbye."

Without saying anything, Kuro turned his back on him and started running.

Mishakuji looked at his back in shock. The only thing he could do was record a single phrase and follow in the footsteps of his younger brother.

When he looked down silently, a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Are you looking, Ichigen-sama? That child has finally become a full-fledged person."

He then he got up. Stumbling, he picked up "Ayamachi" and gently placed it in his holster. The time to exercise that will not come for some time. Now that all the battles are reaching their final stages, there probably isn't much he can do.

But that doesn't mean there's nothing.

"Now... the least I can do is get a new seed."

Mishakuji muttered that and started walking in the opposite direction of Kuro, looking for the stairs that led to the top.

+++++++++++

The great hall was engulfed in flames.

The breath of the "Red Queen" blew from above, completely burning multiple armor plates and leaving large holes. In the distance you can see a blue sky and a sparkling silver tip.

Nagare turned to Shiro and glared at him.

"Are you crazy? Damocles Down..."

Shiro accepted that look head on.

"It's the only way to destroy the "Slate". Neither me, nor the "Golden King". Another person involved in "The Beginning" told me this option."

"Are you planning to turn this into a crater?!"

No, Nagare denied his own words. If Tokyo is caught in the "burst of royal power", it will not simply become a crater. The swords of all the "kings" present there could fall together. Their power is not just a metaphor, but it would be worthy of destroying this planet.

For a moment, Nagare doubted Shiro's character, wondering if he was trying to negotiate with the world itself as a hostage. But he shook his head slowly.

"Concentrate the enormous energy of the "Damocles Down" in a single point. According to the Second Methodology of the Schwert Regulation, it will cause a Hammer Resonance Effect. After calculating the degree of resistance of the "Slate", I discovered that its limit value, was theoretically the same as "Damocles Down". When certain conditions are met, the "Slate" and the "Sword of Damocles" will only annihilate each other.''

Nagare opened his eyes.

He only had a little experience with Schwert's control methodology. Weismann's deviation, the source of supernatural powers, and his crystal, the "Sword of Damocles", are normally phenomena that not even the "King" can do anything about. Although it can be observed, it is impossible to intervene, and the only way to prevent it from happening is to end the King's life. That was the conclusion of the first methodology.

However, the second method proposes another way.

Nagare punched the air. The hologram image that appeared instantly, along with dozens of data, showed that his prediction was correct.

"Impossible! He is pushing his own Weismann level to the limit!"

What the Schwert Control/Second Methodology proposes is that the "King" can voluntarily cross the critical point of the Weismann deviation. By deliberately dropping the largest energy body, the "Sword of Damocles", the power from it becomes directional. In that case, "Damocles Down" transmits energy as "penetration", rather than "diffusion".

The "Silver" Sanctuary is expanding. No reservations, no restrictions, to the point that even Nagare, who was directly connected to the "Slate", was overwhelmed. A dazzling silver glow overflowed from the hand that Shiro had placed on his chest, and in contrast, his expression began to distort in agony.

"Shiro?!"

Neko next to him huddled worried. However, Shiro forced a smile and looked at Nagare.

"What do you think, Hisui Nagare? Don't you think this is some kind of message?"

"What...?"

"The "Slate" can only be destroyed when the "King" releases the sword of his own will. I don't know who he is, but it seems to me that someone who created the "Slate" is saying that."

He closed his eyes in silence and connected the words.

"If it is too much for you, you must destroy it with your own hands."

"I will not leave you!"

Nagare released all the power of him.

A green aura enveloped his entire body and a ferocious momentum coursed through his body. Nagare roared as he tilted his body downwards.

"Looking at Suouh Mikoto's case, it takes less than 10 seconds from the start of the fall to reach the underground! If I kill you before, the sword will disappear!"

Shiro slowly opened his eyes.

"...Try it."

The value indicating the Weismann deviation in the image exceeded the critical value.

The fall began.

Before he could confirm that, Nagare had attacked Shiro. An extremely fast, lightning-like strike aimed at the throat of the "Silver King".

A red Japanese umbrella blocked his fingers.

"Grr...!"

The two auras, silver and green, collide and annihilate each other while emitting a shockwave. Shiro who rules "immutability" is dedicating all of his power to defense. Even though Nagare was directly connected to the "Slate" and gained infinite energy, it took him three seconds to break it.

The Japanese umbrella broke into thousands of pieces and the pieces flew into the air.

Shiro's body was also swept away by the shock wave like a strong wind and fell to the ground. Now that he was helpless, Nagare pounced on him like an animal.

"This is the end!"

A fist that turned into electricity pierced Shiro's abdomen. Nagare's imagination of burning his internal organs and his spinal cord and killing him along with his life did not come true.

Shiro's appearance dispersed like mist, melting into the air and disappearing.

(Ability to recognize and manipulate!)

It took him two seconds to remember those words and find Neko trembling in his arms. 5 seconds left. It was more than enough. The "Silver King" has already exhausted his power. It takes less than a second to destroy the defenseless Strain.

Lightning claws fell on the two from above.

A single swing of the sword blocked him head-on.

Yatogami Kuro. He grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands and gritted his teeth to block Nagare's attack.

Through the space between his clenched teeth, he shouted the name of his "King" with a voice that sounded like a roar.

"Shiro...!"

Nagare frowned.

Yatogami Kuro is there. He stopped trying to think about what that meant. Now is not the time to think. That happened a long time ago. Now is the time to finish them off.

"You're in the way!"

At the same time as he shouted, the pressure of his supernatural ability increased even more. However, that prediction that only one clan member's sword would break for no reason turned out to be wrong once again.

It did not break. The sword held by Kuro, his colorless steel, still withstood the full force of the "King".

A silver aura enveloped that figure.

Taking a deep breath, Nagare looked over Kuro's shoulder.

Isana Yashiro woke up and enveloped Neko and Kuro in a silver shrine.

In that last moment of collision of destructive power, what passed through Nagare's mind was not impatience, but doubt.

"How? Why? They reject power, how can they be so strong?!"

Kuro, Neko and Shiro's eyes were staring at Nagare. The six eyes told him that if they fight, they would never lose.

At that moment, Nagare wanted to turn around.

Shiro, the reason they were there.

Why aren't the clan members who were supposed to be there to stop them?

Mishakuji Yukari, Sukuna Gojou, Kotosaka, Iwafune Tenkei.

For a moment, he could see them sitting around a tea table in their six-tatami "secret base," talking, fighting and laughing together.

At this moment, he suddenly exhaled.

A shock ran through his heart.

"......!"

He has been dreaming about that for many years. Life outside the straitjacket. Breathe freely and fly around the world.

That was the heart. If you have the heart, you can do it. The dead can return to the living and fulfill the wishes of those who also died. Extraordinary abilities for all humans. The power to resist. Be king.

The heart that had heard his prayers was pierced by a sword.

Nagare learned that not through observation but through actual experience. A silver slash pierced Nagare's stone heart. The blood of the supernatural was spilled and the life that was supposed to have been recovered returned to nothing.

His knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

Hisui Nagare looked at the sky through his falling hair. An open well and the blue sky beyond.

The "Sword of Damocles" floating there disappeared.

Nagare murmured hoarsely.

"How unfortunate..."

Then, Nagare turned his gaze towards Shiro.

The tension and caution had not yet left them. That was annoying and Nagare smiled slightly. Nagare silently closed his eyes and said:

"But I'm satisfied..."

Those were the last words that the ''Green King'' Hisui Nagare said.

+++++++++++

It was certainly visible to others.

After the silver sword fell and a shock and tremor resounded, the “Swords of Damocles” floating in the sky vanished one after another.

The test of being king, the crystal of supernatural power. It was in the heaven that he could not reach, even if he stretched out his hand, and it was about to disappear without him reaching it.

The "Red Queen" stared at that.

The sword, a symbol of the destiny that took from her family, but that also brought her something so precious, disappeared. At the same time, something inside her slowly...

"That disappeared..."

The words that Kamamoto murmured were also Anna's voice.

Disappear. The things that had bound them until now. The things that have brought them together until now. That will disappear.

Anna suddenly felt like someone was calling her and looked around her.

But she couldn't find it anywhere. That warmth and that beautiful red are no longer anywhere.

Feeling alone, Anna looked down and closed her eyes.

The "Blue King" watched the situation unfold with his usual calm.

Therefore, even when his "Sword of Damocles", a cracked symbol of power that seemed about to crumble, disappeared, he had no particular feeling about it. However, he simply said...

"It seems my life has been spared."

That's all she said.

However, Awashima, who was behind him, looked different. She dropped the saber she was holding and ran towards Munakata's back.

"Captain!"

Awashima was crying. Relief and joy are on all their faces. Munakata saw that, smiled slightly, and said casually.

"Hehe. I was a little curious to see if you could kill me, Awashima-kun. Anyway, thanks for your hard work."

At those words, something disappeared from Awashima's expression.

Before Munakata's clear mind could formulate a response, Awashima opened her mouth to ask what that was.

"Captain. I'm sorry, but gratitude is not enough."

"Eh?"

"Excuse me!"

Awashima's fist slammed into Munakata's cheek, sending his glasses flying and sending them crashing to the ground.

+++++++++++

"Nagare! Nagare!"

Kotosaka descended and screamed in pain next to Nagare.

However, Nagare did not move. With a satisfied smile on his face, he lay on the cold ground, not moving in the slightest. The fierce energy that had overflowed a moment ago could no longer be felt anywhere.

Kuro asked, still not letting his guard down.

"Is he dead?"

Shiro looked down in pain and responded.

"He survived thanks to the power of the "Slate". That's why..."

Those words were drowned out by the sudden sound of an explosion.

All three were hit by tremors that made it difficult for them to even stand. A low, resounding explosion sound echoed and deafened their ears. Kuro and Neko shouted in unison as they helped Shiro, who has become unstable.

"What is happening?!"

"Meow! Earthquake!"

In response to the clan member's dismay, Shiro remained calm. He looked up at the shaking ceiling and muttered to himself.

"No, someone blew it up."

"Ah. I'm sorry, but I have to fix things."

"What?!"

Kuro held his "Kotowari" in the direction of the voice. It was a familiar voice, and its owner was the one to be careful of along with Nagare.

"Gray King", Tenkei Iwafune.

He slowly walked out from behind the pillar. Blood flowed under his feet. Iwafune muttered with a self-deprecating smile on his mortal face.

"I never expected that situation to change... it was a complete defeat."

"...Kuro."

Without Shiro telling him, Kuro lowered his sword. Iwafune already lost his fighting power. No, he may already be on the verge of losing his life.

However, Iwafune showed no signs of worrying about his situation and simply said:

"I have also ordered my clansmen to flee. You should leave too."

The sounds of the explosion were getting louder. Small pieces of concrete fell from the cracked ceiling. Kotosaka flew away while he avoided them and shouted alongside Iwafune.

"Iwa-san! Iwa-san! Nagare is...! Iwa-san!"

With a weak smile on his blood-stained lips, Iwafune looked at Kotosaka with a gentle gaze.

"Haha. You too, Kotosaka. Now. Go!"

Kuro had no way of knowing what Kotosaka was thinking.

He hesitated for a moment and then flew away with a sad cry. From the hole in the ceiling to the clear blue sky. As if he was chasing him, Kuro also stretched out his colorless hand and jumped, holding Neko and Shiro in his arms.

Just before reaching the top, Kuro looked back for a moment.

Iwafune held Nagare in his arms and looked at him. His lips, with a wide smile, uttered some words.

He couldn't hear him. Kuro and his friends went up. Iwafune looked at Nagare with his eyes closed as if he were sleeping.

The explosive smoke enveloped the figures of the two "Kings", and since then nothing could be seen.

That was the scene at the end of the battle between the Kings.

+++++++++++

Amidst the roar of explosions and tremors, Kusanagi stood alone, staring at his feet.

"We won?"

Through Anna's supernatural network, he had already given an evacuation order. Most of the clan members in "Homura" should have been able to escape safely. Still, his role as Senior Official of the Reds was to wait until the last minute.

He still couldn't be sure what happened to the Silver Clan or the "Green King". They must be escaping alone, he thought, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Kusanagi-san! Let's run!"

It was Yata. Sliding his skateboard from the end of the hallway, he came straight toward him.

Kusanagi nodded silently and ran off with Yata. As Kusanagi headed towards the stairs leading to the upper floor, he couldn't help but ask Yata.

"What happened to Fushimi? Is everything okay?"

"Heh," Yata laughed. He looked back for a moment and then looked forward without hesitation.

"It's okay. It's okay now."

Kusanagi also laughed at his confident words. Yata-chan, who was good at running and going wild, had grown quite a bit. They ran together toward the light, feeling out of place.

Munakata's instructions were quick as tremors resonated from underground.

"All personnel, evacuate."

"Yes!"

Awashima accepted that and gave orders one after another through the intercom. It was supposed to be a normal scene from "Scepter 4", but the only difference was that Munakata's cheeks were very swollen and his glasses had gone somewhere.

The members running back and forth are surprised every time they see Munakata's face. However, Munakata's attitude was calm. After forcing themselves to accept that it was probably his fault, the members returned to their jobs.

At that moment he felt a presence behind him.

When he turned around, a man and a woman were about to appear, trying to get out from under the solid ground.

Douhan Hirasaka's "Wall Breaking Technique". Feeling satisfied that he was able to witness the ninja's skills, Munakata looked at Fushimi, who was being helped by her.

Fushimi had the same dull expression on his face as always. As expected, he felt tired, but he was not proud of having brought that operation to success. He simply said, as if nothing had happened.

"Mission accomplished."

"Thank you for your hard work."

Munakata responded as if nothing had happened and looked forward again.

+++++++++++

By the time they reached the ground, the noise of the impact had already subsided.

Kuro was the first to emerge from the sewer and, while helping Neko and Shiro, he quickly looked around.

It was an alley in the middle of nowhere. There were no members of the "Jungle" clan. Many people have already decided. Most likely they escaped or were captured.

Kuro breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to say that they were safe, he stumbled and fell to his knees on the ground.

"Shiro?!"

"Are you okay?!"

He clutched his chest in pain and sat with his back against the wall. He looked at the worried Kuro and Neko and smiled weakly.

"It seems that I am also running out of strength..."

"What does that mean?!"

"The body I'm in is not my original body... Before the incident at Gakuenjima, the "Colorless King" changed our bodies... In other words, he was taking over the body of a strange boy."

Kuro and Neko gasped at the same time.

They knew it. Isana Yashiro is a temporary name and the current Shiro is not the original body of Adolf K. Weismann. Due to the plot of "Fox Mask", the mastermind behind the incident a year ago, he was trapped in his current body.

Shiro spoke breathlessly.

"I have been able to continue existing thanks to the immutable power of the "Silver King", but... that power has disappeared. Along with the "Slate"..."

"What? Hey!"

"What? Hey, Shiro!"

Kuro and Neko felt a horrible sense of loss at the same time.

If he was able to stay in this world thanks to the silver supernatural ability, what will happen to him now that the "Slate" is gone?

"I've been borrowing it for a long time, but I have to return it to the original owner..."

"That is...!"

"Shiro...!"

With tears streaming down her face, Neko took Shiro's hand. Shiro smiled slightly and squeezed Neko and Kuro's hands tightly.

His palm was warm.

"...It's okay. I will definitely come back. Because I am your king..."

After that, he closed his eyes as if he were sleeping.

A silver light came out of Shiro's body. He disappeared as if he melted into space, leaving nothing behind.

"Shiro!"

"Shiro, wake up! Answer me!"

As they clung to Shiro and called desperately to him, his shoulders suddenly moved.

"Ah..."

He stirred and slowly opened his eyes. Kuro opened his eyebrows and looked at Shiro's face with relief. He thought that he had regained consciousness and that he had not gone anywhere.

But it was different.

Shiro's gaze looking at Kuro was filled with fear and confusion. That is not the expression of Isana Yashiro that they know. Like a child who had never seen them before, he looked at Kuro and Neko's faces, and timidly opened his mouth.

"Who are you?"

[obxone]

Secrets (Part Three)

Edited-ish. ~1.4k words

Main Page

JJ grinned at you as you marveled at the sky bursting to the brim with stars. You blush at the burn of his stare and try to ignore the racing of your heart. He knew his effect on you as a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“JJ?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for tonight. It has been fun.”

His hand brushes yours atop the blanket you had spread out for the final part of the night. He had taken you to a local dive spot for dinner and then ice cream after, and now you were star gazing on the beach. A private little world for only the two of you. Your stomach muscles ached from how much you had laughed so far, and your cheeks feel like they will be permanently red with how much you have been blushing.

“I’m happy you did not turn me down.”

“You promised secrets,” you tease, leaning into his side a little. “Secrets are my weakness.”

“Good thing I have another.”

“Oh?”

He nods, his face getting closer to yours. “Yeah…”

“What is it?”

The soft, warm press of his lips on yours makes your heart flutter, and you kiss him back. Your hands are on his chest as the tip of his tongue teases against your lip. The kiss ends, and you cannot help but to smile at him.

“I’ve wanted to do that since yesterday.”

You laugh before pecking his lips. “My turn for a secret.”

He waits, a grin of anticipation taking over his mouth.

You blush again. “I’ve wanted you to do that for even longer.”

JJ’s eyebrows rise, and his dimple reveals itself. “Secrets are my weakness too.”

You laugh before you settle against his side. Your head is on his shoulder as you take in the view of the view of stars and the sea meeting together in the distance.

“Promise me this isn’t our only date.”

He chuckles, his hand pressing against your waist. “I already have the next one planned.”

You laugh and tip your head to see his face. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good, because I like the way I feel when I’m with you.”

His mouth finds yours in another kiss, and you hum with delight as you kiss him back.

----

“Mom?” You call out as you enter the house. JJ has dropped you off moments before. A promise to see you in the afternoon and a good night kiss that made you feel all tingly.

“Out here!” Her voice reaches you. You find her in her favorite rattan lounge chair, a healthy glass of red wine beside her as well as a romance novel perched open in her lap. “How was the date?”

“Great,” you smile and curl up against her. Your feet tucking under the bend of her knee against the chill of the marsh's cold breeze. Her long slender fingers comb through your hair. “I think you would like him.”

“If he makes you this happy, I already like him.”

You grin brighter and snuggle into her. “Even though he’s a pogue.”

“Even though he is a pogue,” she agrees before pecking the crown of your head. “Now, I need to find Grams a date” she teases, and you laugh with her. She pats your hip. “Will you be seeing him again?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“We have that luncheon at the Island Club tomorrow, don’t forget.”

“Would never dream of it,” you mutter, frowning at the thought of being in the lion’s den with all the kook mothers and daughters. “Our date is after.”

“I’m sure the Carreras will be there.” She tries to soothe you. “And you’ll have your date to look forward to.”

You shrug. “Kiara is a new friend. I’m not sure it’ll matter much.”

She sighs, her arm tightening around you. “We’ll see. It’s one afternoon and it is better to have a new friend than no friend, right?”

“Right,” you agree, a small smile on your face. Kiara did seem to like you. “And then another date with JJ.”

She laughs. “Head up to bed. Your father is in his study if you want to say goodnight.”

“All right.” You press your lips to her cheek before you climb out of her lounger. “Good night. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart!”

A happy smile is on your face for the first time in weeks as you make your way inside to say goodnight to your father.

----

The parking lot is teeming with luxury SUVs and cars. Your nerves spike as you follow your mom into the Island Club. Your shaky hands smooth down the skirt of your sundress, so you do not pick at your nails. You lift your chin as you step into the front door. Mothers and daughters sprinkled throughout the inside of the clubhouse and outside, waiting for the luncheon to begin.

“Come with me.” Kiara’s hand grasps yours nearly making you yelp in surprise. She winces. “Sorry, but it’s important.”

You tighten your hand on hers as she pulls you past your mom, who is already deep in a conversation with someone. “Kie, what is wrong?”

“It’s JJ,” she says quickly, and you immediately stop resisting as you follow her through the clubhouse and out to the golf course. “Out here,” she gestures to the dunes lining the edge of the golf course.

You spot three figures stepping onto the golf course. Your gaze lands on JJ as you get closer. You wince, his bottom lip sporting a cut and a black eye already coloring his left eye.

“What happened?” You ask, your hands cupping his face.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, shrugging it off, but you frown at him. He frowns, glancing at the others who are all watching.

“Who did this, JJ?” You ask again, softening your tone as your thumb touches the corner of his lip. “Who hurt you like this?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” you argue, removing your hands from his face. “You said you shared all your secrets.”

His chin drops, and he sighs, his hands finding yours. “My dad.”

You wrap him in a hug, and he sinks into you. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I’ll be fine,” he breathes, pulling you tighter to him. “It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

“Still doesn’t make it okay.”

“Nice shiner Pogue!”

All of you turn to see Topper, Kelce, and Rafe crossing the green to be only a few feet away. All three wear a satisfied smirk. JJ’s hand balls into a tight fist, and you are not the only one that sees it.

“Not here J.” Pope’s hand clasps down on JJ’s shoulder.

“Too many kooks,” Kie agrees.

You touch JJ’s face, pulling his attention to you. “Not here. They are not worth it. Okay?”

His blue eyes rage with a fire of hatred for the trio behind you, and you worry you will not be able to stop him. You knew JJ hated kooks, it is why you were wary of him in the beginning, but he did not see you that way. His affection for you the previous night made that clear.

“Look at me J,” you whisper, hands on his face again, and he does. “Not worth it. Please.” You can tell he does not like it, but he seems to cave as some tension leaves him.

“Slumming it with the pogues, really?” Rafe’s voice calls behind you, and you frown, hands dropping to press against JJ’s chest.

“Not worth it.” You remind him again before looking at the other pogues. “A little help?”

“JJ, come on.” John B steps forward. “Don’t ruin this. They are baiting us, bro.”

“I know,” JJ breathes before looking down at you. “See you after? For our second date.”

You nod, leaning up to peck his lips. “See you then, I promise. Please put some ice on your eye.”

Pope and John B pull him back, and you watch until they disappear past the dunes. Your gaze flickers to Kiara, who seems to relax a little.

“You’re better than that,” Kelce’s voice calls out, and you tense again. “You both are.”

You roll your eyes and link your arm with Kie’s. “Ignore them and find our moms. We’re late, I’m sure.”

“Agreed,” she nods her head once. You see all three smirking at each other but fight down the surge of anger as you move past them. “Assholes,” Kiara mutters, and you giggle a little, tightening your hold on her.

“Ignore them. They’ll hate it.”

She laughs, and you smile at her ignoring their calls for attention.

(Should I include more parts? I can definitely extend the story, but that was not the original plan. Let me know if you want more of this story!)